


Give our hearts a chance (and stay with me)

by PLISA



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Artist Clarke Griffin, Bellamy Blake is a History & Mythology Nerd, Bellamy is 28, Bellarke, But there’s also so much fluff, F/M, Professor Bellamy Blake, Shameless Smut, Student Clarke Griffin, bellarke smut, clarke is 22, slowburn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:41:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 41,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26645404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PLISA/pseuds/PLISA
Summary: She had heard all about Mr. Blake, the new Ancient Rome Studies professor at Arkadia University. And with ‘all about’ she mainly meant she knew how young, and hot, and dreamy, and incredibly eloquent he was. But gossiping about a professor wasn’t at the top of her priority list on her last year at university. It wasn’t even on the list, to be quite clear.—Or, Bellamy is Clarke’s new (hardass) professor. They don’t get along. And then they do.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake & Clarke Griffin, Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 129
Kudos: 378





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! I hope you enjoy this fic as much as you enjoyed my last one! Just a couple of things:
> 
> \- There won’t be a lot of angst (I think we’ve had enough with the show)  
> \- I’ve already written most of the chapters, so I will be updating daily  
> \- Warnings will be at the end to avoid spoilers.
> 
> Comments and kudos are highly appreciated! :)

Clarke wasn’t expecting much trouble in her very last year of university. She had to take a few classes (which she actually liked), work on her final paper, attend a few parties, and that was it. That would be the end of her education, at least officially. She didn’t know if the balance tilted more towards excitement or fear for the future.

Right now, it was tilting towards annoyance.

She was so damn angry at herself, cursing internally as she basically ran to her first class of Ancient Rome Studies, on the second day of her last semester. Her fingers froze on the cold air as she held her coffee. She was annoyed because it wasn’t supposed to be her first, but her second class, and she had a feeling it wasn’t going to go well.

She had heard all about Mr. Blake, the new AR Studies teacher at Arkadia University. And with ‘all about’ she mainly meant she knew how young, and hot, and dreamy, and incredibly eloquent he was. That was what every person at campus said about him, anyway.

Honestly, she couldn’t care less about this Mr. Blake guy. She was there to get an A and graduate. Her intentions were to learn as much as she could, participate in class, ace her papers, and that was it. Gossiping about a professor wasn’t at the top of her priority list. It wasn’t even on the list, to be quite clear.

When she entered the building, she started looking for room 72. She felt stupid for having missed the first day, which was probably one of the most important ones in every class. But oh well.

The first day Clarke was meant to start the semester, it was Jake Griffin’s death anniversary. For the past five years, she had spent the day at home, reading passages of her dad’s favourite books, looking at old album photos, and cooking his favourite meal to celebrate his life. She always drove back to her hometown to visit his grave, and tell him everything that was on her mind. And nothing, not even her degree, could break the tradition.

So, an ‘ _I’m sorry, Mr. Blake. It won’t happen again_ ’ would have to be enough for him. Her attendance was perfect in every class, anyway. He could ask around if he didn’t believe her.

When she reached room 72, she saw it was almost fully crowded. She frowned. They still had ten minutes left until the start of the class. Was everyone really that eager about this subject?

When Mr. Blake walked into class five minutes later, though, Clarke understood her classmates weren’t eager about the class. They were eager about _him._

She had to admit Mr. Blake was younger than she had expected - he couldn’t be over 30. He wore a button-up shirt, paired with dark jeans and a cute, quite nerdy blazer (with patches on the elbows and everything). And _damn_ , he was wearing glasses.

Okay. She definitely understood the hype around him now. Kind of.

When he started his speech, she was surprised to find it extremely interesting. Mr. Blake didn’t teach, he _narrated_. She felt like a little girl being told a bedtime story. It was so different from the rest of her classes, so captivating.

He was also quite obviously passionate about the subject. He told them personal anecdotes from his time at university, from his travels. He was so full of knowledge and it was...kind of hot.

Whatever. She was there to learn. And he was one hell of a good teacher.

She took notes during the entire class, and doodled on the corners when she spaced out. Her phone screen lit up in her lap, and she looked down at it discreetly. It was a text from Lincoln.

‘Party at Octavia’s apartment at 7. Bring beer’

She smiled and sent him a thumbs up. Lincoln was her latest discovery, and had quickly become one of his closest friends. He was an older guy that worked at The Dropship most nights, one of the best bars in Arkadia. He also happened to be studying an Art Degree, and they shared most classes. His style was particularly original, and it always left her questioning all she knew. He was extremely talented, and extremely reserved as well. He didn’t speak much, but when he did he always hit the nail on the head. Raven had accepted him into their group the fastest.

Lincoln had a girlfriend her age, Octavia, but she didn’t go to university. From what she remembered, they had met at The Dropship when she started working there. In the mornings, she was an instructor at the local gym. Clarke had met her a few times, and thought she was nice enough. Lincoln and her easily fit into their group.

The thought of having somewhere to be that night knew would push her forward in her day. She always felt slightly off the week of her dad’s death anniversary, and any type of distraction was welcome. This party sounded like a good one.

Before she knew it, class was over. She gathered her things quickly and decided that the most responsible thing to do would be to stay behind and apologise to Mr. Blake for not attending his first lecture. Maybe he hadn’t noticed her absence at all, she thought. But he just looked like the kind of teacher who knew everyone’s names and remembered everyone’s faces, so she opted for making a good first impression.

She stayed seated a little longer, seeing that some girls from the front rows had stopped to talk to him at his desk. He observed him. He looked interested in what they had to say (or maybe he was just being polite), but she also felt he wanted to get out of there. Like, _come on_. The man must have noticed that literally every other girl and guy in his class had tried to flirt with him. He couldn’t be that oblivious.

When his desk started to clear out, she climbed down the stairs and waited in line for her turn. She looked up at the clock: ten minutes left to get to her next class, which was in a completely different building. When she saw the girl in front of her giggling at whatever Mr. Blake had said (which probably hadn’t been that funny), she decided she’d had enough.

She coughed, “Excuse me, Mr. Blake,” he turned to look at her through his thick glasses.

He ignored what the girl in front of him was saying, “To whom do I owe the pleasure?”

She fought back a blush of embarrassment. She hadn’t expected him to be so intimidating in the short distance. The girl looked back at her in annoyance, said something to Mr. Blake, and left. They were the last ones in the room, “Clarke Griffin.”

He reached for a sheet of paper from his sitting possition on the desk and scanned it with a pencil, “Ah, I see,” he ticked something she couldn’t see. He spoke as he adjusted his glasses, “I don’t remember having seen you before.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” she suddenly felt nervous, “I wanted to apologise for missing the first class. I had something important to do.”

Mr. Blake looked at her, then at his feet, and then he stood up, circling around the table to grab his blazer, “I hope this ‘something better to do’ thing is actually more important than your degree, Ms. Griffin,” he spoke, “You must know attendance is worth 30% of your final grade.”

She gulped. What the hell was his problem? It had just been _one class_ , and she was one of the few Arkadia University students with a (nearly) perfect attendance record. How dare he?

Clarke nodded, hoping he wouldn’t notice the bitterness in her voice, “I understand. It won’t happen again.”

He grabbed his backpack and nodded at her. _God_ , he literally wore a backpack to class, “Good. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have another class to teach.”

* * *

To say Clarke was furious would have been an understatement. Her blood was _boiling._

“What a dick,” Raven agreed between bites.

“Right?” Clarke set down her bowl of pasta a little harsher than she intended to, and sat across from her roommate, “Like, _I’m sorry Mr. Hardass. I’m sorry that your stupid class is less important than the anniversary of my father’s death_.”

She had wanted to scream the moment she left his class. Who does he think he is? Does he seriously not see that his students have a goddamn life outside of his class?

“But you didn’t tell him that,” Raven pointed out.

“I don’t feel like telling him the in and outs of my personal life.”

“Touché.”

She munched on her pasta for a while, lost in thought. She didn’t want AR Studies to be ruined for her now, but it was kind of difficult to enjoy the class when the teacher was a major douchebag. Clarke understood he was just doing his job, and he probably didn’t know about her and her perfect attendance records, so okay. Fair enough, kind of.

They got ready, and she was still mad. They went to grab some beers from the little shop below their apartment building, and she was still furious. And she hated herself for it. It was her last year, and she wanted to go through it without any complications. But there she was, first week of the last semester, and she felt it was all already ruined.

A minor issue with a professor shouldn’t have upset her like that, but it did. Clarke didn’t like getting into trouble, and definitely not with their supperiors. Yet there she was, in front of Octavia’s door, waiting for her to let them in, and she was feeling miserable beyond repair.

The brunette swinged the door open a few seconds later, and her big eyes immediately fell on the beer. She took them from Raven, “You’re the best.”

“We are,” Raven agreed.

Then, her eyes travelled to Clarke, who was standing behind Raven with her arms crossed, “Bad day?”, she asked her.

“The worst,” Clarke answered as they walked in. They could hear voices coming from the living room.

“Her new professor is a hardass,” Raven explained, taking her coat off.

Octavia arched an eyebrow, “Which one?”

“AR Studies,” Clarke sighed. The brunette gave her a weird look and her lips tilted up slightly, but she didn’t say a thing. She continued, “He basically snapped at me because I missed his first lecture.”

“Sounds a bit dramatic to me,” Octavia smirked.

“Tell me about it.”

Octavia took their coats and placed them on a chair in the hall, where other coats were already sprawled out, “Let‘s have some fun, shall we?”, she clasped her hands together, a big smile on her face. She looked at Clarke, “Or at least try to,” she winked at her before disappearing into the living room.

She gave Raven a confused look, but she just shrugged in response. Clarke didn’t know Octavia all that well to decipher her body language yet, but she didn’t think much about it anyway.

They heard Jasper’s loud laugh from the living room, and Clarke visibly relaxed. Okay. She could have a good time. She could at least try, like Octavia had said.

“After you,” Raven said, and they walked into the already crowded living room.

She first spotted Jasper, Monty and Harper, sitting on a circle and listening to something a guy named Miller was saying. She had met Miller not long ago, at The Dropship. Apparently he was a co-worker of Octavia’s at the gym. On the other side of the room, Murphy was leaning against a wall, beer in hand, as he listened to two people speak. These two people had their backs turned to her, but she could tell they were a man and a woman. She guessed the woman was Emori, but she didn’t know for sure.

Lincoln appeared soon after, a cold beer in each hand. He handed them to Raven and her, “Octavia tells me you’re having a bad day.”

Clarke nodded as she opened the can and took a quick sip, “Shitty professor,” she explained, “I don’t think you take his class.”

“Which one?”

“AR Studies,” she noticed Raven had walked away towards Jasper’s group.

Lincoln shrugged, “I’ve heard about him, but I haven’t had the pleasure.”

Clarke chuckled, “Lucky,” she paused, but she couldn’t help but wonder, “What have you heard about him?”

Before the man could reply, Octavia came up behind her and tangled their arms together. Which, _weird._ When she spoke, her smile was wide and somewhat mischievous, “Come on, let me introduce you to someone,” she said, “I don’t think you know my brother yet.”

That must’ve been the mysterious man she saw with Murphy earlier. Her brother, Bellamy. She had heard about him once or twice. She remembers Octavia saying they lived in another city, but moved to Arkadia at the start of the school year because of his job. He was a teacher or something like that.

Murphy spotted her first, “Griffin,” he raised his beer can in the air, as if to salute her. She gave him a small grin, “You look miserable.”

“It’s nice to see you too, Murphy”, she rolled her eyes.

Octavia tugged at her arm, “Clarke, this is my brother Bellamy,” she grinned, “But I’m sure you know each other already.”

Clarke gave her a confused look and looked at the man across from her.

Shit. Fuck. Shit. Fuck.

 _Fuck_.

“ _Mr. Blake_?,” she stuttered.

To be fair, Mr. Blake, _Bellamy_ , looked even more freaked out than she did. He was wearing a plain black t-shirt, perhaps a bit too tight on his arms (not that she was looking) and the same jeans he had worn to class, she guessed. His hair was messier and he wasn’t wearing glasses. He was a sight.

The grip on his beer tightened, “Ms. Griffin,” his tone was flat, “Didn’t think I’d see you here.”

“Clearly,” she muttered.

Murphy let out an obnoxious laugh, “No way this is happening,” he nudged Bellam— _Mr. Blake_ on his arm.

Octavia was still grinning at her side, “She was just telling me how shitty her day had been,” she told her brother, a mischievous tone in her voice, “Apparently one of her professors is a bit too dramatic.”

Mr. Blake arched an eyebrow. She wanted the floor to swallow her. Seeing one of her professors at a house party was definitely the last thing on Earth she was expecting. So much for a relaxing last semester of university.

She chugged at her beer to fight back a blush. Murphy rolled his eyes, “I swear to God, if you keep calling each other Mr. Blake and Ms. Griffin I will have a stroke.”

“Doesn’t sound too bad to me,” Clarke snapped. She swore she saw a small smile on Mr. Blake’s lips.

“Anyway”, Octavia beamed, “My job here is done,” she poked Clarke’s side, “Relax, have fun. He’s a softie.”

Now she was definitely blushing, she was sure of that. She could always blame it on the booze. Luckily for her, the two groups merged into one and she didn’t feel as pressured to fall into conversation with Mr. Blake. He was mostly quiet throughout the night, and she couldn’t tell if it was just his personality, or if he didn’t want to talk much because she was there. She bet it was weird for him to be outside of class together, too.

At around 11 pm, Jasper suggested they started with the drinking games, and Clarke couldn’t wait to get shitfaced. She had come to the party to forget about her horrible day, only for her horrible day to follow her right there. She thought she might have done something incredibly bad if the universe was punishing her like that.

The game began, and Clarke’s fourth beer rolled over. She took a sip even when it wasn’t her turn. Raven sent her several questioning looks throughout the night, but she ignored them.

“Okay,” Murphy laughed, “Never have I ever been in a house party with one of my students.”

Everyone copied his laugh, and Mr. Blake sent him a death glare as he took a longer sip than necessary. Clarke leaned on Harper’s shoulder slightly, “Douche,” Mr. Blake muttered his way, and Clarke’s heart jumped. Had she just heard her professor swear? _Fuck_ , why did it sound so hot?

_Get a grip, Clarke._

His voice sounded raspier outside the class, she noticed, but equally as deep. It was weird seeing him so relaxed, siting on a couch so casually with a beer on his hand. God, why were his hands so stupidly large? She hadn’t noticed before.

A little past midnight, she started feeling kind of dizzy, but she didn’t want to give it away. Not in front of him. Raven appeared behind her a while later, and put a hand on her arm, “It’s a wrap, Griffin,” she said, “Let’s go home.”

She nodded, because she didn’t have the energy to fight back. She hadn’t had the time of her life that night, but it hadn’t been horrible either. Nonetheless, the idea of getting inside the covers of her bed didn’t sound like a bad plan.

Miller, Emori and Murphy had already left when Raven told Octavia and Lincoln they were heading out. ‘Be safe’, she had shouted back from the kitchen. Then, a presence she recognised a bit too easily came into view, “Do you need a ride?”, he asked. He was looking at her.

She shook her head, making it spin slightly, “We live a couple of blocks away.”

He shrugged awkwardly, “I don’t mind.”

“Don’t worry,” she assured him. She looked around. Where the hell was Raven? She was there just a second ago, “But thank you, Mr. Blake.”

“Bellamy is fine,” he said a little too quickly. She blinked, “We are not in class,” he paused, “And Murphy’s right. It’s a bit weird.”

He was smiling, and she found herself mimicking his expression, “See you around, Bellamy.”

“See you around, Ms. Griffin.”

She waved him goodbye as Raven walked back to her.

And then she realised that she hadn’t told him to call her Clarke.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See notes at the end for warnings.
> 
> Happy reading! :)

Her experience with Ancient Rome Studies improved a little bit after that. At least under her impression.

She suspected Octavia had talked to her brother about being a tad too harsh on his students, because he now always gave her a small smile when she left class. And she didn’t think it was forced, so that was that. 

The following week passed by quickly. Mr. Blake gave them enough readings for a lifetime, on top of two other assignments from different classes. She sighed and buried her face in her cold hands. Her desk was a mess, and so was her room. She was an artist, okay? She saw order in chaos, or something like that. 

She knew Raven was out working at the workshop, so taking a break to bug her wasn’t an option.  _ Ugh _ . She unlocked her phone to absolutely zero notifications, and she thought the world must’ve really wanted her to study that day. But she just couldn’t. She had been in front of the computer screen for three hours now, and she hadn’t written more than a page and a half. Mr. Blake’s readings for the next class rested on her bag, untouched. 

She decided she needed a coffee. There was absolutely no way she’d survive that afternoon otherwise. She quickly put her coat on and grabbed her purse, heading over to her favourite coffee shop on campus. The sky was pretty dark, heavy clouds serving as a warning, and she realised she hadn’t brought an umbrella. 

When she reached her destination, she saw it was kind of empty. It was 6 pm on a Friday after all, which yeah, maybe it was a weird time to get a coffee. Whatever. She ordered her usual and sat on one of the tables, lingering longer than she probably should have. She took her phone out and scrolled through Instagram. God, she really didn’t want to go back to her room. 

The door of the coffee shop opened, and a familiar mop of black hair caught her eye. Her heart started beating a little faster. She immediately looked down at her phone again, pretending to be attentive to something else, and hoping he wouldn’t see her. She didn’t think he would stop to talk to her, anyways. 

She was wrong. 

“Ms. Griffin,” God, why was his voice so damn deep? She needed a break. 

Looking up, she observed his hair was just as messy as it had been the day of the party, but he was wearing his professor outfit. No glasses. She fought the urge to bite her lip. 

“Hello, Mr. Blake,” she gave him a small smile. 

He eyed her coffee, “Interesting beverage choice for an evening.”

Clarke blinked. She noticed he had ordered some kind of bottled juice. Nerd, “I really need a boost of energy today.”

He nodded, and she could sense the hesitation in him, “I went a bit too hard on the readings, didn’t I?”, he was smiling now. An easy, genuine smile she couldn’t look at for more than two seconds straight without feeling something she probably shouldn’t. 

She smirked, “You said it, not me.”

Her stomach did a thing when he chuckled, “I’m pretty sure my etymology readings aren’t that bad, anyway.”

Clarke rolled her eyes playfully, “They turn into a bit of a nightmare when there are seven of them.”

“Got it,” he smiled, and took a sip of his juice.

She noticed they were the last ones in the coffee shop. They probably were closing soon. She stood up slowly under his undecipherable gaze, and put on her coat, “I should probably go back to the depression hole my bedroom has turned into.”

She had meant it as a joke, but she noticed the worry in his eyes right away. He hesitated, “If you’re having trouble with your assignments, I can help you.”

_ Oh _ . 

“It’s...it’s okay,” she stuttered, “I’m just having trouble concentrating. It’s been a long day. But, thank you.”

He nodded, not looking directly at her. He was playing with his juice bottle. The woman behind the counter gave her a pointed look, and she knew that was their cue to leave, “We should probably go,” she half-laughed. 

“Sure, yeah,” he hadn’t seemed to notice they were the only ones left. 

Once outside, the cold air cut through her skin and she shivered. She should’ve probably layered up a bit. On the other hand, Mr. Blake didn’t seem to flinch. 

“You’re made of stone or something?”, she asked him as she rubbed her arms to get some friction. 

He chuckled in response, “It’s definitely a possibility,” he paused, “Come on, it’s getting dark. Where do you live?” 

She gulped, “Just a couple of blocks away. It’s fine, you don’t have to walk me.”

“I want to.”

_Damn_. Okay. Well. 

“This way,” she started walking in the direction of her apartment, and he trailed next to her. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, which came as a surprise to Clarke. There seemed to be an unspoken complicity between them, and it was...strange. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that they had been at a house party together, mildly drunk. Yeah, that was probably it. 

A few minutes away from her building, fat raindrops started falling from the sky, and it was pouring rain in no time. They were just barely dry when they reached her front door. Mr. Blake hesitated at the doorstep, and she rolled her eyes, “Don’t be stupid,” she unlocked the door and gestured for him to go in, “If you get sick, who will pester us in class?”

He sensed the joke in her voice, and chuckled in response, “Fine.” 

Honestly, she couldn’t be more proud of herself for having cleaned up the previous day. There was absolutely no way she would have offered him to come in if her apartment had been in its usual state. 

When they walked in, Clarke noticed it was too quiet and Raven was probably still at work. She told Bellamy (she could call him that, right? They weren’t in class) he could use the bathroom to blow dry his clothes, but he shook his head, “You go first.”

She had already learned there was no possibility of winning an argument against him, so she just hurried up and changed into her stay-at-home clothes. Bellamy then took over the bathroom. 

After about half an hour, he emerged in the living room, where Clarke was lying on the couch, laptop in her legs, “Sorry I took so long,” he scratched the back of his head, “There’s no easy way to dry up a pair of jeans quickly.”

“No, sure, it’s fine,” she reassured him quickly. He stood there, awkwardly, looking around the space.

“Do you live by yourself?”, he asked. 

“I live with Raven,” she said. 

“Yeah, I remember her from Octavia’s apartment.”

Right. The party at his sister’s place. Where he had basically heard her spitting venom at him. She coughed, “About that,” she started. He was looking at her quizzically. God, her professor was literally standing in front of her in her own living room, “I’m sorry I went off on you like that”, she said, a hint of embarrassment in her voice, “I was pissed.”

“That much I figured,” he smiled, and sat down on the other end of the couch, keeping his distance, “I probably shouldn’t have been so hard on you, either,” he scratched the back of his head, “O told me you have a perfect attendance record, so I guess my bitterness was unjustified.”

Her eyes widened. She hadn’t expected Octavia to defend her in her absence. They weren’t even that close, but she appreciated it, “I understood where you came from, really,” she reassured him, “I just wasn’t feeling great that day.”

Bellamy nodded. He was looking at her now, a hint of a smile in his voice, “I promise I’m not an ass.”

Clarke laughed, “I believe you, Professor,” she teased. 

“I told you Bellamy is fine,” he smiled. 

She mimicked his smile, “Clarke is fine as well, you know. I’d rather not have you call me ‘Ms. Griffin’ in front of our friends”

_ Our friends _ . Right. Because apparently now she had mutual friends with her professor. 

Bellamy stayed for about another half an hour, talking to her mainly about the assignment she had been working on (or trying to) while he dried his clothes. She noticed that not only was he extremely passionate about the subject he taught (and about the entirety of the Ancient world, really), but he was also incredibly witty and sarcastic. 

A relationship between a professor and his student shouldn’t be so casual, she figured. She knew university was a whole other world, and that they were two full-functioning adults capable of holding an interesting conversation outside of the classroom. It wouldn’t have been weird in any other context. She was 22, and she guessed he was about 28, and no one would’ve batted an eyelid at them if their relationship didn’t have to be strictly professional. 

But it wasn’t the case, and people very much batted eyelids at their dynamic. 

“So, you brought your professor home.  _ Our _ home.”

Raven cleaned up the excess of mascara from her eyelids as she looked at her carefully through the mirror. 

“Don’t say it like that.”

“I’m saying it exactly like it happened.”

“He stayed for like an hour.”

“I can think of a couple of things you could do in less.”

Clarke let out a deep, long sigh, and zipped up her knee-high boots. It was a Saturday night, and Monty and Jasper had suggested they went for a few drinks to The Dropship. Clarke thought she deserved some fun after having finished one of her two papers and three of Bellamy’s seven readings.  _ Professor Blake’s _ . Whatever. 

“I’m pretty sure he wasn’t thinking about hooking up with one of his students,” Clarke stated. She sure sensed some tension between them, but perhaps it was all in her imagination. That was probably it. 

The brunette shrugged, “People have done worse.”

She was almost sure Bellamy wouldn’t dare to go there, though. He would be thinking too much about the consequences. Which, okay, fair enough. She could literally ruin his career if they hooked up and she told the Dean. She wasn’t a bitch, though - but he didn’t know that yet.

The Dropship was packed when they arrived, which was an unusual sight. It wasn’t exactly the fanciest bar in Arkadia. Miller was already hammered, and Monty and Murphy were on his way there. Emori was laughing with Harper; Lincoln and Octavia behind the counter. She spotted Jasper away from the group, talking to a girl she recognised as Maya. 

And there he was. 

Bellamy Blake was sitting across from Miller, a big smile plastered on his face, probably enjoying a little too much the wasted state of his friend. Raven dragged her to the table, where they were greeted with a crowd of cheers. 

“Hey guys,” Raven greeted the group, stealing a quick sip from Harper’s pink drink, “Jeez, I’m getting myself one of these.”

And, just like that, she disappeared. Clarke noticed the booth was a bit too crowded, and there weren’t any places for both her and Raven to sit, “Here, sit down,” she heard a deep voice say from the opposite end of the table. 

Bellamy was standing up, his eyes locked with hers. She shook her head, “Don’t worry. I’ll get a stool.”

“Don’t be stupid, sit down,” his voice sounded like a command, and it reminded her of when he told someone to put their phone away in class, to read a passage, or to answer a question. It made her shiver.

A little bit against her will, she walked to the other side of the booth and took his seat. The moment Raven came back with two of those pink drinks, she drank hers almost in one sip. She hadn’t exactly planned on getting drunk that night, but there was absolutely no way she could stand another night out (or in) with her professor. Not after what Raven had said. 

Beer in his hand and sitting on a high stool, Bellamy was chatting lively to Miller, Monty and Murphy, and he wasn’t really paying that much attention to her. Good, she thought. The less they interacted, the more she would enjoy her night. 

After a while, Harper tugged at her sleeve, “Let’s go dance,” she basically pulled her to the center of the bar, where a bunch of people had gathered to create a temporary dance floor. She took Clarke’s hands and they started moving to the upbeat song. 

She looked at Bellamy by the corner of her eye. He was talking to Emori. 

A few moments later, she looked again. His eyes were on her. 

His gaze was heavy on her, and she couldn’t take it. Heat was starting to rise up from her core as she leaned in and shouted over the loud music into Harper’s ear, “I need another drink,” to which she nodded, and they headed towards the counter. 

A few people were calling on Octavia and Lincoln (and some other waiter she didn’t know) for their orders, but Lincoln immediately went towards them, “More of that pink stuff?”

“You know the answer,” Clarke smirked, and he nodded at them before rushing somewhere else. 

“I hope it isn’t awkward for you that Bellamy is here”, Harper suddenly said, while they waited for their drinks, “He’s friends with Miller, and obviously Octavia’s brother, and he’s super nice. We didn’t know he was your, _you know_.”

“It’s fine,” Clarke semi-lied, “I don’t mind having him around.” Which she didn’t, to a certain extent. He certainly wasn’t loud, or annoying, so that was a bonus. Most of the time he was quiet, and his sarcasm was appreciated. So yeah, she didn’t mind having him around. Most of the time. 

Harper arched an eyebrow, “Would anything bad happen if someone saw you at a party with one of your professors?”

Would it? Perhaps. It certainly wouldn’t be a common sight, but professors usually weren’t younger than 30, either. So she shrugged, “He doesn’t seem to be too worried about it.”

Harper didn’t answer. A few seconds later, Lincoln handed them their drinks, and as Clarke was about to take a sip, a new presence entering the bar caught her attention. 

Finn Collins was known for having crossed too many lines. One time he got too wasted at a frat party that the next day he went to class drunk, and had to run out of the room in the middle of a lecture to throw up. Clarke also heard he’d had a threesome in an empty classroom once, but nobody ever truly found out if that was true. Apparently he had changed drastically in the last two years, his main focus now on his grades. She honestly couldn’t even remember what degree he was doing. 

But he was there nonetheless, Atom and McCreary trailing behind him. They stopped a few feet from them and asked for shots. Finn saw her first, and gave her a hand wave in acknowledgment. She responded with a small smile, just to be polite. They didn’t even know each other that much. 

He chugged two shots, then made his way towards Harper and her. Before she could even react, he was already at her side, “Clarke,” his voice was smug, “Long time no see.”

Harper gave her a knowing look, and Clarke wanted to tell her she was just as confused as she was. Finn and her couldn’t have possibly spoken more than two words to each other in the last semester. She was surprised he even knew her name, “Hey,” she finally spoke, “I’ve never seen you at The Dropship. I didn’t know you liked it here.”

“Keeping tabs on me now, huh?,” he smirked. _For fucks sake_. She was just trying to be polite.

“Um, not really,” she chuckled awkwardly.

“Such a shame,” he winked at her and gestured something to Atom and McCreary. They nodded back at him, and then, “Wanna dance?”

She saw Harper’s pointed look, and she knew she probably shouldn’t accept his request. Dancing was definitely not included in her ‘being polite to Finn Collins’ list, but there she was.

“Sure,” she swallowed the rest of her drink and gave Harper a squeeze on her arm before disappearing into the dancefloor with Finn.

She immediately regretted her decision. It was more crowded than it had been before, and people were pushing her from all angles. Finn took the chance to wrap an arm around her waist, hand a bit too low, and started swinging with her. She put her arms around his neck just to have something to hold onto, and she felt how the alcohol started kicking in. 

Before she knew it, his hot breath was on her neck, and she closed her eyes in response. She was getting dizzy, and it wasn’t exactly because of him. Her hands went to his shoulders, pushing him backwards slightly. She didn’t want him to kiss her, and perhaps it was because of her almost absent-minded state, but she had the feeling he was going to. 

After what seemed like a lifetime, she spotted Murphy standing up with a beer in his hand, looking at his phone. Her breath relaxed - she had an escape plan. Even if it was John Murphy. She leaned over, lips pressed to Finn’s ear, “I’m going to talk to a friend.”

But his hands didn’t leave her waist. Clarke shifted in discomfort under his touch. Nothing. She suddenly felt trapped, the dizziness in her head not helping the situation at all. She looked around, but couldn’t see Harper at the counter anymore. Murphy had disappeared, too.  _ Shit _ . Had their friends left without her? Did they think she was going to go home with Finn?

Finn’s lips roamed her neck again, her pushing hands not helping in any way. She twisted her face, unable to even pretend she liked anything about the situation. His breath was hot on her neck, and perhaps she would’ve enjoyed it in any other context (or with someone else). But she felt pushed, scared, disgusting, and _oh my god_ , Finn’s hand was literally grabbing her ass. 

_ Shit _ .

A large hand cupped Finn’s entire shoulder, and her brain wasn’t completely functioning when she locked eyes with Bellamy. The boy yanked his head back and immediately got defensive, “What the fuck, man?”

Bellamy didn’t flinch. He was looking at her, “Let’s go, Clarke.”

Her face features visibly relaxed at his presence, and she started to get away from Finn’s grip. However, he had other plans. 

“We kind of were in the middle of something,” he yanked her back from the waist, and she almost tripped over. 

Bellamy’s face was no longer chill, she noticed. Even in the dim light of the bar, she could see his eyes darkening with something she couldn’t quite decipher, “I said, let’s go Clarke.”

She decided to step in, “Finn, it’s okay, let me go.”

He looked at her with an unrecognisable face expression, and pulled her away abruptly. Clarke stumbled back, but that same large hand that had stopped Finn before also stopped her fall now. Bellamy’s strong grip was in her arm. She realised then, that he had never touched her before. 

Finn scowled and got unnecessarily close to Bellamy’s ear, “Call me crazy, but I don’t think it’s appropriate for a professor to be out with a student,” he shouted over the music, “Fuck her good for me. But I’m not sure she’s worth your fucking job.”

Clarke swallowed. _Fuck her_? What?

Finn was gone as fast as he had come, and she realised Bellamy was still holding her arm in the middle of the dance floor. They were the only ones not moving. 

He then wrapped an arm around her shoulders and guided her carefully towards the exit. He was so warm, and he smelled better than she had imagined. She couldn’t help but lean on him slightly for comfort.

They reached a quiet corner of the bar, on one of the edges of the counter. Octavia came quickly with a glass of cold water, “Drink,” Bellamy held it in front of her, and she took it without a fight. Their fingers brushed at the motion, and she shivered. 

Her head was pounding loudly, and she struggled to keep her eyes open. She almost could feel Finn’s fingers gripping her ass and god, she felt disgusting. 

“I’m taking you home, okay?” She heard Bellamy say. She didn’t remember nodding. 

Suddenly they were outside, the freezing night air waking her up completely. Bellamy was walking beside her, holding her steadily with an arm around her shoulders, and  _ fuck _ . His touch was doing things to her. It shouldn’t.

“I’m sorry, Bellamy,” she muttered. 

His eyes snapped at her, “What for?”

She shook her head. It was dark, and it was cold, and it was silent. Her heels clicking on the pavement was the only sound on the street, “I don’t normally need saving.”

His arm tightened around her shoulders, “You didn’t look like you were having a great time.”

A small sigh escaped her lips, “I didn’t even know him that well and he was grabbing my ass,” she chuckled, a hint of sadness in her voice, “So yeah, not my best moment.”

Bellamy’s jaw twitched, “I should’ve gotten there sooner.”

Her apartment building could be spotted from a distance. She had forgotten he knew where she lived, “It’s absolutely not your fault, Bellamy,” she shook her head. If anything, she was okay now because of him, she wanted to say. 

They reached her building, and he helped her up the stairs, although she was feeling slightly better and a little more awake. When she opened the door and his arm unwrapped from her shoulders, she wanted to complain. She shouldn’t want her professor to touch her in any way. But his skin was so warm, his hands so gentle, and his presence so comforting, that she knew she would be thinking about him as she fell asleep. 

“Are you okay to get into bed by yourself?” He hesitated at her doorstep. 

She wanted to say no, “Yeah,” she paused, “Thank you for today. I would still be there if it wasn’t for you.” Or worse. But she didn’t say it. 

“It’s nothing.” He was visibly nervous, and Clarke thought he looked so ridiculously adorable, “Get some sleep, Clarke. I’ll see you around.”

She nodded. He sounded genuinely concerned, “You, too. Thanks, Bellamy.”

He gave her a small nod, and he was gone. 

Clarke locked the door behind her, softly. She pressed her back to its wooden surface, and she sighed loudly. Her knees were weak, her breath uneven, and her heart felt funny. 

_ Fuck _ . 

She had a fucking crush on her professor. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: inappropriate and unwanted touches, but they don’t go too far.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings for this chapter.
> 
> Happy reading! :)

Bellamy hated himself. 

He really did.

He shouldn’t have walked her home that afternoon from the coffee shop. He shouldn’t have walked into her apartment, shouldn’t have seen her in sweatpants and a hoodie that was probably too big for her. He shouldn’t have accepted Jasper’s invitation to The Dropship last week, and he definitely shouldn’t have felt the need to punch a wall when he spotted Clarke dancing with - was that Finn Collins? - some stupid boy. His hand was on her ass and that’s when he knew he’d had enough. He didn’t know if he’d call it jealousy, but  _ fuck it  _ \- he was jealous of a 22-year-old boy and that should probably tell him enough about his state. 

If he hadn’t done all of those things, he wouldn’t be in such a mess right now. 

And it was one hell of a mess.

Students started walking into class, and it wasn’t long before he spotted her through his glasses. Her blonde hair was up on a high bun, and her face looked tired. And he hated himself again, because all he wanted to do was to ask her if she was okay, and hold her in his arms if she was not. 

Hell, he was disgusting. 

It shouldn’t be so complicated. He knew he should do something about it, and as soon as possible. The mere thought of Clarke did something to him in more ways than one, and it was becoming a problem. He tried to distract himself throughout the day, which wasn’t really all that difficult. He had classes to teach, and papers to grade. He went to the gym, and stopped at Octavia’s apartment to check on her. He went grocery shopping, and watched nerdy documentaries on TV, as Miller would say. So he was okay. 

Nights weren’t so easy, though. Sometimes, he would purposely leave assignments for the late hours, so he would have something to do. Because if he didn’t, his mind would wander off, and it always arrived at the same destination. Her beautiful, big blue eyes, her silky blonde hair, her stunning lips. And his thoughts would take off from there, and travel from her lips to what they would feel like pressed against his. Sweet and urgent, he guessed. And then, almost inevitably, how her pretty mouth would feel wrapped around a very specific part of his anatomy. 

And, just,  _ no _ . 

He would be both ashamed and disgusted to admit he had gotten off at the thought of her more than once. And  _ shit _ , it made him feel like a sick fuck. He probably was. 

But it wasn’t easy, it wasn’t easy at all to fight his primal instincts when he couldn’t stop thinking about how snarky she was, and how damn brilliant her essays were, and how much potential she had. And then he had started noticing her physique, and it had been it for him. She was so fucking incredible in every way, from her mind to her heart, to her body. God, that ass. He couldn’t help but steal a discrete look at it as she walked up the classroom stairs and took a seat. 

He took his flask out and took a sip of cold water. One thing he absolutely was not going to do was to have an erection in the middle of class. 

As the rest of his students occupied the remaining seats, he knew he had to put an end to it. He knew better than to be involved with a 22-year-old student. It wasn’t wise to make a move on her, and he wasn’t even sure it would be mutual. As he looked at her again, and saw her face buried in her phone, he decided that he was going to ignore her. 

That was probably the last option he had. 

Because he had tried it all: from accepting his feelings to convincing himself he would be taking advantage of her. Yet none of his own arguments sounded convincing enough for him, and he was desperate. 

So yeah, he opted for ignoring her. Which was a bit difficult from the start, since he was literally her teacher and she seemed to have a thing for participating in class. 

By the fourth time she raised her hand when he asked a question and he didn’t pick her, he almost felt bad. Clarke knew he always enjoyed listening to what she had to say, as she was actually one of the very few students who did the readings and went the extra mile to do further research. 

He caught her raising a quizzical eyebrow at him at some point, and he knew she suspected something was up. 

Bellamy dismissed his students forty minutes later, and he plopped down on his chair as he recomposed himself. The thought of Clarke was all consuming, more than he would like to admit. 

When he saw her approaching from the corner of his eyes, he mentally cursed. Perhaps ignoring her wasn’t going to work, if she didn’t want to be ignored. But he needed to keep trying for his own sake. 

“Mr. Blake,” her voice was innocent, soft. 

His breath hitched, “Yes, Ms. Griffin.”

But she stayed silent for a few seconds, waiting for the class to clear out, he guessed. That was certainly not a good sign, “Is everything okay?”, she asked once they were the only ones left in the room. 

“Why would you think otherwise?”

She looked around, as if to confirm they were alone, and when her eyes went back to him, her stare was as cold as ice, “ _ Bellamy _ ,” God, his name fell so sweetly from her pretty mouth, “Is everything okay?,” she asked again. 

He adjusted his glasses and sighed, hoping she hadn’t heard him. But she had, so she asked, “Why are you ignoring me?”

_ Shit _ . 

“I wasn’t ignoring you,” he stated simply. 

“Liar,” her tone was accusing, almost hurt, “You literally looked at me in the eye every time I raised my hand and never called my name, not once.”

“There are other people in my class, Ms. Griffin,” he didn’t intend to sound as harsh as he had, but he guessed the damage was done. 

She wasn’t having it, “Not when 95% of them don’t give a shit about your readings, and have nothing of value to say,” her hands were now on his desk, and she was leaning forwards, as if trying to intimidate him. 

He swallowed, attempting to regain his composure as he spoke, “I’m aware your participation is always of great help and value to the class, Ms. Griffin, but I would also like to hear what the rest of your classmates have to say.”

“ _ Clarke _ .”

He blinked, “What?”

“My name is  _ Clarke _ ,” her gaze was hard on him, “You know that”. 

“Not here.”

She stayed silent for a moment, but their eyes remained locked. Something was definitely up, she thought. They were alone, and he didn’t call her ‘Ms. Griffin’ anymore when it was just the two of them. 

She let out a desperate sigh, “I don’t know what’s gotten into you,  _ Professor Blake _ ,” her remark bitter as it could be. But now she looked hurt, betrayed even. His heart sank a little, but he didn’t flinch. 

He frowned, “Everything’s okay.”

This time, she didn’t say anything. She gave him a small nod and walked away, as quickly as she had come.

* * *

Perhaps having confronted her professor wasn’t the most intelligent decision Clarke had ever made. Sure, she was pissed, but it still had been an incredibly unprofessional thing to do. So why wasn’t she feeling bad at all? 

She didn’t understand why Bellamy had ignored her in class. Weren’t teachers supposed to encourage participation in class? Weren’t they supposed to give a chance to all their students? Not him, apparently. Not anymore. 

And to think he could actually care about her. If not as anything else, then at least as a friend. As something more than his student. 

Stupid. She was just plain stupid. 

Lincoln had messaged her that afternoon to let her know Octavia was hosting another house party in a few hours. She told him she wasn’t feeling well, and that she’d rather stay at home. 

Word might have spread, because a few hours later her phone started buzzing with texts from their friends. 

**Harper** : get well soon bby!! will miss you lots tonight x

**Monty** : u owe us a wild night out, c. it’s never the same without u! (heart emoji)

**Raven** : pls at least don’t spend the night studying. don’t be a nerd. jk love you babe

And then:

**Octavia** : What did he do?

Clarke’s heart started beating so fast she feared it might combust. Lincoln hadn’t known her for long, but for some reason he always caught her lies. He could see right through people’s bullshit, and it wasn’t a talent she appreciated at that moment. She guessed he had told Octavia that he didn’t really think she was sick. But how had Octavia connected the dots? What did she know, that Clarke didn’t?

The blonde swallowed as she opened her chat. 

**Clarke** : he...who?

She tried playing it cool, pretending she had no clue what this was all about. But very much like her boyfriend, Octavia seemed to have a sixth sense for bullshit. 

**Octavia** : Bellamy

**Clarke** : he did nothing, why?

Her reply took a bit longer to come. 

**Octavia** : He came up with the same excuse when we invited him over

Had he, now? So he wasn’t feeling at his best, either. She couldn’t help but feel slightly better. Clarke debated whether to tell the truth, or keep pretending it was all okay with him. Knowing Octavia, she probably knew the truth already. 

**Clarke** : he was being weird to me in class for no reason. i’m not really in the mood to see him tonight 

**Octavia** : Knew it. Don’t worry, honestly, he’s a bit of an ass sometimes. It’s probably nothing personal. 

**Clarke** : idk, seemed personal to me

She didn’t mean to sound so harsh, not when she was talking about him with his own sister. 

**Octavia** : Let me talk to him. 

No, no, no, no. She didn’t want him to know she was upset, or that she cared. She wanted to ignore him, just like he had been ignoring her. 

**Clarke** : you don’t have to 

But she didn’t get any more replies from Octavia. 

The hours passed by, and she fought the urge to open Instagram to see if their friends had posted anything. Now that she knew Bellamy wasn’t going either, she kind of regretted not having re-invited herself to the gathering. But it would make her look suspicious, so she sacrificed a potentially great night with her friends for Netflix and noodles. 

Her eyes travelled lazily to a corner of her room, where a picture of her parents and her sat quietly on her dresser. They had taken that picture when she was around six in Santa Monica, she recalled. The sight of her dad made her stomach turn, and she decided she had nothing left to lose. So she let the tears fall.

She cried because she was missing her father, so damn much. What would he think of her, if he saw her now? With a stupid little crush on her university professor, and focusing her energy on the wrong thing? He’d probably feel ashamed of her. She also cried because she didn’t remember the last time she had talked to her mother. Their relationship had been rocky since her father’s death, and neither of them seemed to be making a real effort to build it back up. Abby Griffin occupied her mind with work and extra shifts at the hospital, and not so much checking (or caring) about her daughter’s mental health. 

She felt alone, she felt small, and she felt pathetic.

Her phone buzzed from under the covers, but she didn’t want to talk to anyone. She lacked the energy, and she chose to embrace her weakness. Because she was weak, and in more ways than one. 

Netflix was playing in the background when her eyelids became too heavy to keep them open. She fell asleep with the sound of her phone buzzing again. 

* * *

He was dreading the moment of their next class together, but he knew he couldn’t back down. Teachers didn’t really have such a luxury. He wondered if Clarke would show up, though, which he wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t. He had been a total ass to her, he saw it now. Octavia had made it quite clear, too. 

Bellamy wasn’t expecting his sister to show up at his apartment the night of her party, half an hour after he had texted him he wouldn’t be attending. It wasn’t the first time he had turned down an invitation to one of his sister’s gatherings, anyway. 

The moment he opened the door and the brunette stormed inside his living room like an angry hurricane, hands on her hips, his heart sped up, “What the fuck is going on with you and Clarke?”

Well,  _ shit _ . 

He tried playing it cool, “What do you mean?”

“Don’t ‘what do you mean’ me, Bellamy,” she rolled her eyes, “What did you do?”

She knew something. She had to. His sister was a good guesser, and she usually excelled at reading people’s minds. But she wasn’t  _ that _ great. 

He adjusted his glasses over his nose, “I didn’t do anything.”

“That’s not what I’ve heard.”

_ Oh _ . 

“What have you heard?”

“Were you being weird to her in class?”

There it was. Clarke must’ve talked to her. There was no way Octavia would know otherwise. He panicked a little, “She got mad at me because I didn’t let her participate,” he shrugged, “She always participates, anyway. I thought I’d be a good teacher and let other people have a chance.”

Octavia’s arms were now crossed, and she arched a judging eyebrow at him, “For some reason I don’t believe it’s that simple.”

“It’s what happened.”

She stayed quiet after that. He guessed Clarke was upset, but he would’ve never imagined she’d be upset enough to bring it up to his sister. Or perhaps her sister had picked up on her strange behaviour by herself. He never knew with Octavia. 

After a while, she spoke again, “I know you’re going to say no, but I already know the answer is yes, so don’t even bother,” he raised a quizzical eyebrow at her, “You like her.”

He froze, but his reply was quick, “I don’t.” 

Another eye roll from the younger Blake, “I was there when you almost literally punched Finn Collins for grabbing her ass,” her tone was accusing. Maybe he deserved it, “Finn Collins, a  _ student _ , no less.”

He cleared his throat, “He’s not in my class.”

“That’s not the point.”

Bellamy groaned, and plopped down on the edge of his couch. Octavia’s gaze seemed to soften at the sight of her crumbling brother, but he could tell she was still pissed.

“I feel something, okay?” he couldn’t look at her as he spoke, “She’s just so...so bright. So damn intelligent. And she’s sarcastic, too, and hell,” he let out a dry chuckle, “It’s so wrong. So fucking wrong. Because if I weren’t her damn professor I would’ve probably asked her out already, and I wouldn’t be feeling so fucking miserable.”

Octavia kneeled down in front of him, her hand caressing his fondly, “So you thought ignoring her was the solution.”

He nodded, “Didn’t even last a whole day,” his deep sigh filled the room, “She’s really mad at me, isn’t she?”

“I think she’s more disappointed than anything,” her sister confessed. She continued, “Look, I don’t know if she likes you like that or not, but I can tell she doesn’t hate you, so that’s something,” she smirked. 

He didn’t know how to take her words. The truth was, Clarke hadn’t given him any sign of interest. Perhaps he was just sick in the head, and she actually was sensible enough (unlike him) to know that a student-teacher relationship was absolutely out of the question. 

Octavia pulled out her phone, and his screen immediately lit up with a message a few seconds later, “That’s her phone number,” she told him, “Text her. Tell her you’re sorry, and that you’re an ass.”

He chuckled, but weighted out his options, “I don’t think she wants me to text her,” he said, “Plus, she could easily go to the Board and complain about her professor sending her unwanted texts.”

Octavia seemed to understand, so he didn’t text her, “Fine. I’ll text her then,” she smirked, “I’ll tell her that my brother is a hopeless douche.” He pinched her arm. 

When she left, he took a beer from his fridge and finished it almost in one sip. He sure was going to need a little help falling asleep that night. 

And now there he was, waiting until the clock hit 11 am to start his lecture and hopefully pull her out of his mind. But he immediately knew it wouldn’t be easy when he saw her walk through the door, not even bothering to look his way. 

He tried not to look at her for too long, but it proved to be difficult. She looked stunning. Her hair was curvy and down, and she was wearing a dress with black tights and tall boots. He wondered if it was some kind of revenge. A way of showing him what he refused to have. 

It was working. 

Class went normally, for the most part. He asked questions as usual, and she didn’t raise her hand once. She wasn’t even looking at him for all that mattered, her eyes glued to her notes. Honestly, he deserved it. He had been a dick to her once, and she was getting back at him tenfold. He wasn’t complaining. 

He dismissed them without any extra work for the weekend, and he felt a little better about himself when a few students smiled, relieved, in response. He closed his laptop and leaned on his desk, hoping Clarke wouldn’t be the first one to leave the classroom. As she walked down the stairs, they locked eyes. 

_ Come here, please _ , he mentally pleaded, and he wished with all his heart she could hear him. As she passed by, heading for the door, he couldn’t hold himself back, “Clarke!” 

She stopped right on her tracks, frozen. Had she heard right? Had Bellamy just called her  _ Clarke _ ? In class? In front of (almost) everyone? She looked back at him, a question in her eyes. He walked towards her, slowly, as the rest of his students cleared out. 

It had been a few minutes since everyone had left, and he still hadn’t said a thing. God, he had missed her being next to him. How could he miss something as simple as that?

He took a deep breath, a leap of faith, and started, “I’m really sorry about the other day. I was an ass to you and you absolutely didn’t deserve it. I should’ve been more professional.”

Her fingers were fidgeting nervously as she processed his words, “It’s okay.”

“It’s not. I…,” he paused, not really knowing how to articulate his next words, “I like having you in class, Clarke. You’re a brilliant student, and you have an incredible mind,” he noticed she was taken aback by his words. He continued, “I’d love nothing else than to listen to you all day. I’m sorry, really. I’m not mad at you, I’m just… I was mad at myself, and I’m sorry.”

Clarke realised she had been holding her breath. His words weighed on her. ‘I’d love nothing else than to listen to you all day’... had he really meant that? She fought back a blush, “We are okay, Bellamy. I promise,” she gave him a small smile, “I’m sorry I snapped back at you, too. It wasn’t professional.”

He chuckled, “We are not very professional, are we?”

Maybe they weren’t. And, honestly, Clarke didn’t care anymore. 

“We are not,” she agreed, “And it doesn’t look like we’ll be able to fix that soon,” before he could ask her what she meant, she continued, “So what do you say we keep being unprofessional, and you come with me to an art exhibition tomorrow evening?”

Bellamy stopped breathing. His heart quite literally stopped, he thought, and oxygen wasn’t getting to his brain anymore. That must have been what had happened, because there was no way Clarke Griffin had just asked him on a date. 

But he looked, really looked at her, and saw something in her eyes. Hope, friendliness, perhaps also fear of rejection. He wasn’t going to break her heart again, “Sounds like an incredibly unprofessional idea,” he paused, and Clarke almost heard her own stomach drop. Then, “I’m in.”

She smiled, “Cool,” she tried to sound less excited than she was, but she probably failed, “I’ll ask Octavia for your number later, if that’s okay with you. And I’ll text you the details.”

He debated telling her he already had her number. But it’d probably be better if she was the one taking the initiative, “Looking forward to it.”

And just like that, Bellamy Blake had a date with Clarke Griffin. 

With his student. 

And he didn’t feel bad about it at all. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings at the end to avoid spoilers.
> 
> Happy reading! Comments and kudos are highly appreciated :)

Clarke was nervous out of her mind. And Raven was starting to get annoyed. 

“Clarke,” she started, eyeing her carefully, as her friend and roommate pulled out the entirety of her closet and threw it on the floor, followed by a set of  _ ‘This looks too informal’ _ ,  _ ‘This looks too dark’ _ ,  _ ‘This outfit isn’t giving me art gallery date vibes’ _ , “You still have three hours. You’re fine. Relax.”

“I can’t,” she sighed, burying her face in her hands. She was never one to get stressed over what to wear, but apparently that had changed, “I’m so nervous, Raven. What if I just cancel it?”

“Absolutely not,” her tone was serious now. She sat down on the floor, next to her roommate and her pile of unwanted clothes, “Bellamy’s a nice guy, intelligent, witty. You’ll have fun.”

“He’s also my professor.”

“You’re also graduating in like three months.”

Okay. Yeah, Raven had a point. She would be graduating before she knew it, and then her relationship with him would change completely. It would no longer be illegal to hang out with him outside university. 

Oh god, they were going on an  _ illegal _ date. 

Raven noticed her breath picking up, “I swear, Clarke, you’re overreacting. No one is judging you. I’m not. Octavia is not - and she’s his sister.”

That was true. She might have been overreacting after all. Once she graduated, and if they ever got to that point in their now non-existent relationship, they wouldn’t have to disclose the details of how they met each other. They could always say ‘at university’, which was true, and avoid judgement. Their friends didn’t seem to mind, and that was enough for her. For now. 

Maybe she was just trying to convince herself that it was all okay, when it was actually a fucked up thing what they were doing. 

She finally opted for a white blouse, a black mini skirt and tights, paired with her favourite boots. It was casual enough, she thought. Before she left her apartment, she applied a bit of lipstick. Not because she wanted her lips to look good, or anything. Of course not. 

The walk to the art gallery was quiet, and cold. She was so nervous she forgot to put her headphones in her purse, so that was that. She had texted Bellamy the details of their date (was it really a date?) the day before, and he’d texted back saying he was looking forward to it. She was, too. 

As her destination got closer and closer, she tried to remember the last time she’d been on a date. It must have been at some point the previous October, when Lexa had invited her to an open-mic night where they read poetry, and they made out in the bathroom afterwards. _How_ _ romantic _ , she thought now. Clarke quickly learned Lexa didn’t particularly enjoy the whole dating thing, and she was much more comfortable getting straight to the point. Which she wouldn’t have minded a few years ago, but now she just saw it as a waste of energy and time. They agreed to remain friends, but the truth was they hadn't talked much after that. 

She secretly hoped Bellamy wasn’t looking for that. Although, in all honesty, she didn’t even know what she was looking for herself. 

The art gallery building eventually came into view, and it didn’t take her long to spot him. He was wearing dark jeans and a dark brown leather jacket and  _ oh god _ . She immediately knew she wasn’t prepared enough for the evening. 

“Hey,” he shot her a smile the moment he spotted her, and she was quick to return it, “Shall we go inside? It’s freezing.”

She smirked, “I thought you were made of stone,” she said, recalling that time they had met at the coffee shop and he had walked her home in the cold. 

His hands were in his pockets, but he was quick to get the door open for her. The sudden warmth of the AC at the gallery made her cheeks flush. 

“You’ll have to find out for yourself,” he smirked right back at her. She wasn’t exactly sure what he meant, but the fuzzy feeling in her chest was telling her not to worry too much about it. 

It turned out the showing at the gallery featured all kinds of local artists, and Clarke actually knew a few. She made sure to tell Bellamy all about it, and he listened attentively, “Most of them have worked with Charmaine Diyoza at some point,” she told him, and Bellamy thought he recognised the name, “I believe she organised this showing, so naturally her best talents are displayed here.”

“She has an agency or something?”, Bellamy asked, genuinely curious. He knew Clarke was an artist (she was doing a degree in Fine Arts, after all), and he could see the clear excitement in her eyes as she talked about Diyoza. 

“Something like that,” she smiled, looking at one of the paintings in front of them. It was an abstract piece of bright colours, and it didn’t say a lot to Bellamy, but he knew Clarke was mesmerised by it. She happened to be mesmerised by everything, he noticed, and it brought a warm feeling to his chest. Clarke continued, “She owns several art galleries all over the state, and she always gives opportunities to upcoming artists. Mostly students.”

“So you’d like to work with her?”, they moved onto the next piece, a charcoal drawing of a woman sitting on a rocking chair. It reminded Bellamy of his mother. 

She nodded, “I’d like to try,” she hesitated, “But I don’t think my work would be good enough. She gets thousands of applications each year.”

“Bullshit,” he said a bit more harshly than intended. Clarke’s head turned quickly to look at him. He coughed, “I mean. Your work is good enough. I don’t think you’ll have any trouble getting what you set your mind to.”

She raised an eyebrow, “You’ve never seen my work, though.”

He shrugged, “I just know it’s amazing.”

Clarke’s lips drew a small smile, and that was when she noticed he had freckles. God, how hadn’t she noticed before? In her defence, they had never been so close in proximity, and she had never felt relaxed enough to let herself stare at him like that. He didn’t have one or two, but dozens of them, and she suddenly felt the urge to trace her fingertips along each one of them. 

“Thanks, Bellamy,” she sounded shy, “That means a lot.”

“I’d love to see your art one day, though,” he moved an inch closer to her, hoping she wouldn’t notice, “If you want to show me.”

“I’d love that,” she looked up at him, their faces as close as they’d never been. He gulped. He absentmindedly looked down at her lips and  _ fuck _ . She had caught him. She was looking at him now, going between his eyes and his lips.  _ Shit _ , it couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t be about to kiss a fucking student. That must’ve been the lowest of lows-

“Let’s see the next one,” she suddenly said, cutting the tension between them abruptly, and then she was gone. He followed the subtle scent of her fresh perfume. 

He took a moment to collect his thoughts. Perhaps she did want to kiss him after all. But should they? He didn’t get to answer his own question, as an overly excited Clarke started tugging at his sleeve, “Bellamy, look!”, her excitement matched a child’s, and  _ damn _ , she was so fucking adorable. 

His eyes darted to the piece she was pointing at, which was a sculpture of a Roman soldier made from old newspapers, “Wow,” he breathed out, “That must’ve taken them ages.”

“It’s so amazing,” she sounded excited, and he wondered if she was excited for the sculpture, or if she was so hyper because she knew he would like it. He liked to think it was a bit of both. 

They moved to the next room, and then to the next, and to the next, and eventually to the last one. He looked at the time on his phone. They had been around the gallery for two hours, but it’d felt like two minutes. Time passed by quickly with her, between laughs, jokes, thought-provoking conversations and comfortable silences. And then their hands would accidentally touch as they walked next to each other, and he would melt. He had never let his guard down like that on a first date, and it should probably worry him, but it didn’t. 

His hand travelled to the small of her back as he opened the door for her to walk out the gallery, the cold air of February hitting their exposed skin at once. It was already dark out. 

She turned to face him, “I’ve had a great time today,” she smiled, “Thank you for coming with me.”

He smiled back, “Likewise,” he paused. And then, in an act of bravery, he asked her, “Want to grab dinner together?”

She blinked, “Sure,” she tried playing it cool, “What did you have in mind?”

“What do you like?”

_ You _ . 

“I’m cool with pretty much anything,” she shrugged, “But I could use some burgers right now”

“Then burgers it is.”

Turns out Bellamy had driven there, and she couldn’t be more grateful for not having to walk in the cold. She climbed in the passenger seat, and wrapped her arms around herself to gain some heat, “Where are you taking me?”

“Surprise,” he smiled as he turned on the engine, “I hope you’re not expecting anything fancy, though.”

“Burgers aren’t the fanciest dishes I can think of, anyway,” she teased. 

“Fair enough.”

They fell into a comfortable silence as Bellamy started to drive who-knows-where. She couldn’t stop looking at his hands on the steering wheel, suddenly noticing how stupidly handsome he looked while driving. She shouldn’t be attracted to him. It was wrong. But why did it all feel so _right_?

“You’re quiet,” he noticed out loud. 

_ And you’re beautiful _ , she wanted to say. 

“I’m just hungry,” she smiled as he took a turn.

And then, she saw it. Rosie’s Diner. Her mouth opened in shock, and her eyes glistened with tears that were threatening to roll down her cheeks, “You know this place?”, Bellamy asked, noticing her expression. 

He parked right outside the door, and she noticed the place wasn’t crowded at all - just a couple of tables were occupied. Just like she liked it. Just like always. 

She took a second to regain her composure, and shifted somewhat uncomfortably on her seat. She took a deep breath, “It’s just… My dad used to take me here a lot during the weekends. We would drive up to Arkadia and spend the day together.”

The sad, longing undertone of her voice didn’t go unnoticed by Bellamy. God, he wanted to hold her so badly. Would it be okay for him to hold her? He spoke carefully, “I’m guessing you don’t come here anymore?” 

Clarke shook her head, a small smile on her lips that didn’t reach her eyes, “He passed away a few years ago.”

“I’m so sorry, Clarke,” he said right away, and he couldn’t stop himself from taking her hand in his. She seemed taken aback by the gesture, but she quickly relaxed as his thumb started caressing her skin.

His touch was cold, but the warmth she felt inside was undeniable, “It’s okay,” her voice was quiet, broken, but she refused to let herself cry in front of him, “I… it doesn’t hurt anymore. Just a little sometimes. But now all I do is celebrate his life instead of mourning his death.”

“That’s a very mature thing to do,” he reassured her, “I’m sure your dad would want that, too.”

Now her smile certainly reached her eyes, “Me, too,” she paused, debating whether to go on with this conversation. It was a moment of vulnerability, but she didn’t feel weak. Not with him. Not when his touch was so warm and reassuring and...familiar. 

“Can I tell you something?”, she asked. When Bellamy nodded, she continued, “I missed your first lecture because I was in my hometown. It was...it was the anniversary of my dad’s death. And I wanted to visit his grave. It’s kind of a tradition. So, yeah. I’m sorry. That’s why I didn’t attend.”

After a few seconds, Bellamy’s silence was starting to make her worried. His eyes had darkened, and he was looking past her. Only the sound of cars in the driveway behind them could be heard. She squeezed his hand, and he seemed to wake up from whichever mental reality he was in. 

“I feel like the worst person in the entire universe right now,” he stated firmly, no emotion in his voice. 

Clarke’s eyes widened in horror, “No, Bellamy, no. I promise it’s fine. You didn’t know, you… you were just doing your job. It’s okay.”

But he shook his head, and when he looked back at her, she realised she had never seen him so vulnerable before. She doubted a lot of people had, “I should stop being so hard on my students.”

On his students. On  _ her _ . Because she was one of his students, and he was one of her professors, and they were together and alone and holding hands in his car. After having been on one hell of an amazing date. About to eat dinner together. Her head started spinning. 

Now it was Clarke who was caressing his skin with her cold fingers, “Don’t worry about it, please,” her voice was soft, “You’ve made it up to me today.”

He smiled softly back at her, “Have I?”

His fingers went back to tracing patterns on her skin as well, and he noticed how small her hand was on his. Okay, yeah, he had ridiculously large hands, he was aware. But hers were stupidly small, too, and it made his heart flutter. 

She nodded, “You most certainly have.” 

God, he wanted to kiss her so badly. But he couldn’t. He shouldn’t, “Let’s go inside, shall we?”

They entered the diner quickly to avoid the cold, and walked closer to each other than necessary to a nearby booth. Sitting across from each other, Bellamy asked what her dad and her used to order when they went there, and he ordered that. She did, too. 

As they waited for their food, Bellamy spoke, “Thank you for telling me about your dad.”

It caught her off-guard, but she offered him a small smile anyway, “Thanks for listening.”

“I love listening to you,” it took him a second to realise what he’d said. He took a sip of water to calm down the heat on his cheeks, “It’s only fair that I tell you a bit about my family, now.”

She rested her chin on her hands, eagerly waiting to hear his story. Clarke knew he had a sister, and that they had moved to Arkadia recently. But that was pretty much it. 

Bellamy cleared his throat, “Octavia and I moved here from Shallow Valley last summer because I got the job at Arkadia University. It was a dream, honestly. It was…,” he paused, “I had to pay for my History and Classical Studies degree, and it wasn’t easy. So getting such a good job position made it all worth it.”

Clarke nodded, and couldn’t help but wonder, “Your parents?”

“Our dad left us. Mom passed away when I was 20. I had to take full custody of Octavia and...yeah. It was a mess for a while.”

She didn’t know what to say, except that she felt immense admiration and pity for the man in front of her, “That must’ve been difficult. I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he gave her a small smile, “Octavia’s always been a free spirit, but she’s a good kid. She wasn’t all that difficult. But it wasn’t great, financially speaking.”

“I can imagine,” but Clarke couldn’t, not really, because her father had left a huge fortune behind and her mom was a doctor. She never had to worry about money, but it didn’t mean she wasn’t aware of how hard it was to earn it, “If you don’t mind me asking, how did you manage to pay for your degree?”

“I had to wait until I was 24 to enroll in university. I did it in two years, because I couldn’t afford to pay any more loans,” he explained. Admiration, immense admiration, “I worked two jobs, three at some point, to help pay for Octavia’s education and our bills. I was a janitor for a while at a high school, a security guard at a mall, I did some plummeting work as well…”, his smile was tired, and Clarke knew the last few years couldn’t have been easy for him. She could’ve never imagined how bad he’d had it, by looking at how he held himself, how clean and well he dressed, how eloquent he was. She had assumed he was a rich kid, just like her. 

Bellamy Blake was crumbling her world. 

“Anything I could do to support us,” the waiter finally brought their food, and he smiled as he thanked them. 

But Clarke couldn’t take her eyes off him. When the food stayed in front of her for a while, untouched, he raised a questioning eyebrow at her, “You’re amazing,” she spoke, suddenly, and she couldn’t believe she’d just said that out loud, “I… I would’ve never imagined you had it that bad. I’m so sorry.”

He gave her an easy smile, “Nothing to be sorry for,” he put a bunch of fries on his mouth, “Life wasn’t easy for a while, and then it was. Now we are good. I love my job, Octavia enjoys hers. We get to breathe a little.”

She nodded, “You both deserve it,” she felt the urge to reach for his hand and squeeze it, “I’m… I’m kind of starstruck right now.”

“Don’t say that,” he laughed, “It’s good. We’re good. Now let’s change topics, yeah? How are you enjoying my class?”

And there it was again, the constant reminder that they were just a student and her professor, and that perhaps they shouldn’t be having dinner together at all. Did he worry about that, too? Would it become awkward if she asked him? She hesitated, but then realised that they had basically stripped down in front of each other by talking about their difficult pasts. Perhaps they would never feel awkward around each other, no matter what they talked about. 

“You’re a great teacher, Bellamy,” she told him, truthfully, “I’ve never seen so many people taking notes at once during class.”

He snorted, “That’s a relief.”

She nodded. She waited until they finished their food, and then, “Do you think this is okay?”

Bellamy cleared his throat, “As in…?”

“Us. Going to the art gallery together. Having dinner together. Hanging out.”

The hesitation was visible in his expression, and she could only imagine that his internal struggle was as bad as hers. But they needed to have that conversation. She needed to know where they stood, before she did something she’d forever regret. 

“I don’t think it’s usually what teachers and students do,” his speech was slow and careful, “But we are adults, right? And we just have a few weeks of class left.”

She swallowed, “Are you usually...like this, with all your students?”

“Absolutely not,” he blinked, “Clarke, I…”, he scratched the back of his head, looking around nervously. She sat still, quiet, anticipation on her chest, “ _ Fuck _ .”

“What’s wrong?”, she was nervous now. 

“Nothing, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m… I should’ve…”

“ _ Bellamy _ ,” her hand was on his wrist now. He looked down at her gesture, relaxing immediately. His heart started racing for a completely different reason, “Bellamy. It’s okay. You’re not forcing me into doing anything.”

“Are you sure?”

She arched an eyebrow, “I’m the one who invited you to the art gallery. Remember?” 

“I do,” she could almost hear the gears working inside his head, “But I’m older than you, and I’m your teacher. I hold power over you, in a way. And I don’t want you to feel pressured to do anything. We have mutual friends, but we don’t have to be friends if you don’t want to.”

“I want to be your friend. I enjoy your company, a lot,” she paused, “Do you?” 

“I do.”

“Okay. See? We are good.”

“We are good.”

“Yeah.”

They stared at each other’s eyes, and a different, mad kind of hunger started building up inside Bellamy. God, he was fucked. He was _so_ fucked. 

His eyes were dark, his tone flat, “Shall we go?”

Her stare matched his, “Yeah.”

Bellamy paid for dinner, left the waiter a tip, and met Clarke at the door. He needed to know. He needed to know once and for all if she was on the same page. If she was just as hungry. 

If she wasn’t, it could cost him his job. And if she was, it could cost him his job, as well. But he didn’t care. Not anymore. He was done waiting for good things to happen to him, instead of fighting for what he so badly wanted. And what he wanted was  _ her _ . 

As she went to open the door to the passenger seat, he stopped her. His firm hand was on her waist, and her breath hitched. This wasn’t happening, Clarke thought. It couldn’t be real. He leaned in slowly, painfully slowly, until his lips were in line with her ear. She was standing still. 

“I’m hungry, Clarke.”

_ Fuck _ . 

_Fuck this, fuck that, and fuck him_. She would very much like to do that last thing. 

She swallowed, thinking her words through, “What else would you like to eat, Bellamy?”

His hot breath travelled from her ear to her neck, and he felt her shiver. He pushed his body closer to hers. Suddenly, it was no longer cold outside. 

Bellamy started placing small and slow kisses on the sweet spot behind her ear, and she threw her head back in pleasure.  _ Shit _ . This really was happening. This was happening. Her professor was eating her alive.

He sucked on her neck, testing the waters a bit further, and a small, moan-like sound fell from her lips. That was it. She pressed her thighs together, desperate for some friction. 

“ _ Bellamy _ ,” she breathed. But his lips were still attached to her skin, and she wanted him. Badly. 

“Tell me what you need, Princess.”

Her knees weakened at the nickname. She couldn’t handle it anymore. 

“I need you, Bellamy.”

“You do, huh?”

_ Shit _ . He knew exactly what he was doing.

The grip on her waist tightened. She would’ve never suspected he was so...dark, dominant. She had to close her eyes to calm herself down. 

“I’ll tell you what we are going to do,” he paused, lips still roaming her skin, “I’m going to drive us to my apartment, and when we get there I’m going to take really good care of you. Okay, baby?”

She nodded, unable to do or say anything else. He pressed his mouth to her neck again, and she pushed her body backwards, collapsing into his. The hard bulge pressed against her lower back was all she needed for confirmation. Her professor wanted her. She wanted her professor. 

And there was no going back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: it gets a bit steamy at the end.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings at the end to avoid spoilers.
> 
> You might have noticed that I’ve cheekily added a couple of chapters to the story. That’s because I really couldn’t wrap it in just 9, and I didn’t want it to be rushed! 
> 
> Happy reading :)

He pushed the door open to his apartment, and in a flash her back was already against the wall. One of his hands was grabbing her waist, just like he had done in the parking lot not even fifteen minutes ago, and the other one was pressed against the wall, trapping her in.

Bellamy’s nose brushed her own, “Tell me to stop, and I will,” he breathed out. 

She shook her head, “I want this, Bellamy.”

He nodded, his dark eyes never leaving hers. _This is wrong_ , he thought. _This is so damn wrong_. What would they do when they saw each other in class? What if anyone found out? What if-

“Stop thinking,” Clarke placed her hand on his chest. A warning, “Bellamy, this…”, she gestured between them, “This may not be the most ideal scenario, but I want you. Do you want me?”

“So badly, Clarke.”

“Then take me,” she breathed, “Take care of me.”

He groaned, and in a quick but soft movement his lips were on hers. It should’ve felt wrong, but it didn’t. It felt like everything else he’d done with Clarke: fun, exciting, calming. _Forbidden_.  


It felt good, so damn good, but she didn’t know how to react. The words  _ ‘I’m kissing my professor’ _ thundered in her mind, and she was unable to stop thinking. That’s until his large hand started moving lower and lower, stopping right on the curve of her spine. She shivered, and he bit her bottom lip in response. A groan. She wished he would just grab her ass like she’d imagined so many times.

Her mouth seemed to be moving on its own, meeting his movements. It’s slow, then fast, deep, sloppy, needy. Her fingers curled into his hair (his very, incredibly soft hair) and tugged shyly. He let out a groan, so _perhaps he likes it_ , Clarke thought. 

Bellamy pulled away first, but didn’t go far. His lips then ghosted her neck. She closed her eyes in response, unable to hold herself together. He bit and sucked and kissed her there, and she wished he would leave a mark. She wanted him to mark her so badly. A sign, and reminder that she’s been with him like this. 

“ _Bellamy_ ,” his name fell off her lips in a soft moan, and it was the most amazing thing he’d ever heard. 

“Yes, babe,” he grunted, “Tell me what you need.”

She allowed herself to enjoy his lips on her neck a little longer, “I need you inside me, Bellamy,” she moaned as he bit on her collarbone, “ _ Please _ .”

That was all it took for Bellamy to lose his mind. He picked her up easily, his large hands finally cupping that ass he’d been dreaming about for too long, and he carried her to his bedroom as she kissed his jaw. 

Once in his room, he carefully placed her on the bed, and started taking his jacket and shirt off. And _oh my god_. Clarke held her breath as she watched his muscles contract as he undressed. He was so stupidly hot. She had noticed his arms were bigger than most men’s she had met (it was a bit difficult not to notice, honestly), and so were his hands, and she wondered if there were any other parts of him that were also bigger than average.

She had only taken off her coat and shoes when his lips attacked hers again. He easily pinned both of her wrists above her head, holding them up with one hand, and his tongue tangled in hers. Clarke had expected him to be more shy and reserved in bed (not that she’d ever thought about him in bed, of course), but in all honestly she thought it was a pleasant surprise. She always enjoyed taking the lead, but she had to admit that letting Bellamy do things to her was driving her insane. Her body was his. 

He sent her shirt flying above her head, revealing the black lace bra she was wearing underneath. Bellamy groaned and his mouth immediately attached to her round breasts. He discarded her bra to the floor next, and he sucked and bit and touched her nipples, and she was going so fucking insane. They were round, and pink, and _hard_ for him. _Fuck_.

He pushed himself into her, still wearing his jeans, and she whimpered. Her breath hitched as she felt the enormous bulge in his pants. She suddenly got nervous. Clarke couldn’t remember the last time she’d been with a man - it must have been at least a year ago. And Lexa and her hadn’t done much, either, and it still had happened a while ago. She was going to be so tight. She freaked out. 

Bellamy noticed the change in her attitude, and he immediately stopped playing with her breasts, “What’s wrong, Clarke?”

She bit her lower lip in hesitation, “It’s just… it’s been a while since I’ve been with anyone.”

He smiled fondly at her, “That’s okay, Princess,” he seemed to like the nickname. She did, too, “I said I’ll take care of you.”

She nodded, and he nodded back in reassurance, and then he started taking her skirt off slowly, then her tights. He slowed down his rhythm. Bellamy wanted to fuck her, badly. _So badly_. Since that day at The Dropship when he saw Finn grabbing her ass, and his blood started boiling. He wanted to fuck her, and he wanted her to fuck him. But he wanted to make it special, to make her feel good. And if she was nervous, he wasn’t going to contribute to that. He was there to take care of her, and that was his sole purpose. 

They kissed again, slowly this time, having a taste of each other’s mouths. God, he was such an incredible kisser, Clarke realised. She would never have enough of him, and it scared her. His mouth was amazing in every way: as he spoke, as he lectured, as he laughed, as he kissed her. Her hands moved to the buckle of his jeans, and she locked eyes with him as she bit her lip, innocently. His head started spinning at the sight of her like that, begging. 

“Not so fast, Princess,” he smirked, and toyed with the hem of her panties, “I’m not going to fuck you just yet.”

Clarke groaned in response, and her hips bucked up in desperate need of friction. He didn’t hesitate as his finger started circling around her core, the finest piece of cloth between their skins. She whimpered, “Bell, _please_.”

He hummed, and moved her underwear aside, revealing her sweet, naked flesh to him. She was dripping wet, and he wanted nothing more than to get a taste. He licked his lips, as he slowly pushed his middle finger inside her hot core. She flinched at the sensation, but relaxed as he pumped it in and out in steady movements. He was fingering his student. _Oh god._

Clarke was a mess of moans and whimpers, and her clit got even wetter with every movement, “I’m going to add a second finger, okay babe?”

_ Babe _ . Fuck. She nodded, and bit her lip as she felt her insides stretch. She couldn’t count the amount of times she had spaced out while looking at his hands, his stupidly large hands and his ridiculously thick fingers, and now they were inside of her. Fucking her. Fucking her so good her insides were already pulsating. 

“I’m so close, Bellamy,” she whimpered. 

“I know baby,” his tone was calm, teasing, “You’re gonna come for me, sweetheart? That’s it. Good girl. Come all over my fingers.”

That did it for her. His thick fingers inside her, the sweetness and possessiveness of his voice, and the mere sight of him fucking her so good brought her to the edge, and she had to grab a handful of his bed covers just to feel like she wasn’t completely falling apart. Her orgasm was loud, messy, and it left her floating. She had never felt so damn satisfied. No one had ever made her come undone like that. 

When she calmed down, he took his fingers out and licked them, “You’re delicious, Clarke,” he smirked, and she was almost disappointed to hear her own name from his lips. She pouted, “What is it?”

“I’m not  _ Clarke _ in bed,” she smirked, and he seemed to get the message. 

He towered over her, pressing his hips to her core, a whimper escaping her sweet lips, “Of course you aren’t,” he groaned, “You like it when I call you baby?”

She bit her lower lip and nodded, “Alright then, baby girl,” he bit her neck, most definitely leaving yet another mark. Clarke couldn’t believe this was real - that  _ he _ was real, “I’m going to fuck you now, okay?”

She nodded again, unable to get the words out. In a swift movement, his jeans were on the floor and so were his boxers. And _shit_. _Fuck_. He was huge. He was too damn huge. She shook her head, and before she could hold herself back, “Bellamy, there’s...there’s no way you’ll fit inside me,” her eyes were wide, and he saw genuine concern in her face. 

“Clarke,” he kneeled in front of her as she sat up, and took her hands in his. She gulped, “I’m not going to hurt you, okay? If it’s uncomfortable for you, I’ll stop. You don’t have to worry about it.”

She gave him a small nod, “It’s just been a while. You’re big and I-”

“Do you trust me, Princess?”

“I do.”

“Okay,” he gave her a reassuring squeeze, “Lay down for me.”

She did as she was told, and she watched him grab a condom from his nightstand. She gulped. However, instead of putting in on, he kneeled in front of her legs and smirked up at her. Before she could protest, his tongue was on her clit, and she thought she would pass out. He moved slowly, then fast. In circles, sucking, making out with her sensitive folds. She panted, and whimpered, and screamed. He was holding her down by the waist, making pressure with his hands, and _oh god_. She started dripping again, her second orgasm of the night building up. But he pulled away before she could reach the top. 

It was then when he opened the condom and put it on in quick motion. It didn’t even reach the base. He pumped his length a few times and positioned himself in front of her entrance, its tip brushing against her pulsating clit. She wanted to scream.

“Tell me if it hurts, okay?”

“Okay,” she nodded. But she felt ready. She felt so damn ready and desperate she thought she’d pass out from anticipation. 

Bellamy then thrusted into her, slowly, pushing the tip past her slick folds and beyond. Clarke tightened her fists around the covers and flinched a few times, adjusting to the new sensation, but she didn’t tell him to stop. She didn’t want him to. She wanted him to fill her up. 

“Fuck, Clarke,” he groaned as he pushed himself further inside her, “You’re so fucking tight. _Fuck_.”

He was still pushing inside of her, painfully slowly, and she reached for his arm, clinging onto him for dear life. Eventually he had filled her up completely, and he let out the loudest groan she’d ever heard as the tip collided with her walls, “You okay?”

She nodded, and he started moving. Slowly at first, but building up the pace quickly. Her walls contracted and expanded as he pulled in and out, and she couldn’t handle the waves of pleasure he was making her feel. 

“Fuck,” he panted, as he increased his rhythm, “You take my cock so well.  _ Fuck _ . You’re such a good girl for me.”

His thrusts got faster, and sloppier, and harder, and Clarke didn’t think she’d last much longer. She was so overwhelmed by him, by his cock, by what they were doing. He was fucking her shamelessly on his bed. Her professor was inside of her, ripping her apart, and she was enjoying every second of it. 

“ _ Babe _ ,” his voice was low and harsh. He was still thrusting into her, “I want you to ride my cock. Will you fuck my cock, sweetheart?”

“Ye...yes,” she breathed, and before she knew it he was pulling out of her carefully and sitting down on the bed. 

“Come here,” he opened his arms for her, his back pressed against the headboard of his bed, and she crawled into his embrace. Her insides were burning with desire. 

He grabbed her by her hips, another hand behind her neck, and he slowly pulled her in for a kiss. It was slow, passionate, and it was building pressure again between her legs. _God, this man_. She couldn’t get enough of him. She positioned herself above him, and breathed in and out before lowering herself on his cock. He moaned out loud at the sensation, and she whimpered as she took him in completely.

“You’re...you’re so big, Bellamy,” she panted as she started moving up and down his length.

His large hands were on her ass, guiding her movements, “And you’re so fucking tight, sweetheart. You’re driving me insane.”

Ther rhythm was steady and fast, and she really hoped his neighbours couldn’t hear them. Because she was a mess of moans and screams, and he was grunting loudly and whimpering out her name, and that must’ve been the hottest thing she’d ever experienced. She wanted him to fuck her at all times, in every position and from every angle.  


He fit inside of her perfectly, even if a tad too big, and Bellamy couldn’t help himself as he sucked on her nipples while she rode him. The sight of her boobs bouncing up and down in front of his face as she took his entire cock inside her was too much to handle. He knew he was close, but he wouldn’t come before her. 

Luckily for him, she was on the edge, too, “Bell, I’m...I can’t take it anymore,” she cried out loud. 

“That’s okay, baby. Come for me. Come on my cock. That’s it. That’s my girl,” he encouraged her, and in no time he felt her insides pulsating around him. Unable to keep himself together any longer, he started to thrust faster into her as she rode her orgasm, and he came hard and loud inside of her. His sight went blank. 

Clarke wrapped her arms around his neck to hold herself up, and he embraced her in response, breathing rapidly on her neck. They stayed like that for a moment, regaining their composure. When their breaths evened out, Clarke planted a quick kiss on his lips and removed herself from his lap, so he could take the condom off. It was embarrassingly filled with his cum, and he wondered if she could tell it had been a while for him, too. 

He waited for her to come back from the bathroom, still naked and out of breath in his bed. When she came back, he gestured to her to get under the covers with him, and she happily agreed. He wrapped his arm around her petite body and pulled her closer. They were disgustingly sweaty, but they couldn’t care less. Not in that moment. 

“How are you feeling?” His voice almost echoed in the room, previously filled with screams and moans, now silent. 

“It hurts a little,” she admitted, “But I’m feeling great. You?”

“I’m great, too,” he smiled, and pulled the thin covers up to her neck to keep her as warm as possible. 

They didn’t know how long they stayed like that for. But it felt right, Bellamy thought, every second of it. Their breathing in sync, Clarke wrapped around him as he kept her warm and kissed the top of her head every now and then. He could get used to this.  


For a second he forgot about everything. He forgot about his status as a professor, and her status as a student, and the fact that that night could easily cost him his job. For a second he pretended they were someone else. For a second he pretended everything would be alright. 

“What’s on your mind?” He heard her ask. Her fingers were absentmindedly tracing patterns on his exposed chest. 

“I want to be with you like this,” he hesitated, “All the time.”

“Me too,” she admitted, a sad undertone in her voice, “I’m graduating in three months.”

“I know,” he nodded. 

“Should we wait until then?”

He didn’t know. He didn’t want to. 

“I think it would be best,” but they had to. 

She nodded, and he almost could hear her nervous heart pounding in her chest. He promised he would take care of her, and he had just broken her heart. 

“Clarke,” he ran his fingers through her hair, as if trying to take her disappointment away. But he knew it wouldn’t be so easy, “I’m still your friend, alright?”

“I know,” she said, “I’m your friend, too.”

Which was probably way more than what their student-teacher relationship would allow them to be, so she couldn’t really complain. But she wanted to. Because life wasn’t fair, and after everything it had taken away from her, she couldn’t believe it was taking Bellamy away, too. 

“Good,” he gave her shoulders a squeeze, “You’re important to me. And that’s not going to change.”

“I hope not,” Clarke bit her lip, “I care about you too, Bellamy. A lot.”

His heart jumped inside his chest, “Come here, Princess,” she scooted closer (if that was even possible) to his chest and he wrapped his arms around her even more tightly, pressing a hard and loud kiss to her temple. She closed her eyes, taking this moment in. She wanted Bellamy, and he wanted her back. It shouldn’t be so complicated. It shouldn’t hurt this much.

The dim light of his room and the dark sky outside made her eyelids heavy. She clinged to Bellamy, refusing to let him go, and allowed herself to relax in his embrace. 

Bellamy looked down at the girl in his arms, breathing evenly, eyes closed. He smiled at the sight, and promised himself he’d do everything in his power to make her happy, without compromising either of their futures. 

Her heart was safe with him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: shameless smut.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings at the end to avoid spoilers.
> 
> Happy reading! Your comments and kudos always make my day :)

The night she spent at Bellamy’s apartment was one of the best she’d had in years. She slept soundly, no nightmares in sight, and when she woke up his arms were still around her, fingers carefully caressing her stomach. She realised then that she hadn’t felt so happy in a long while. It shouldn’t have felt so right, waking up naked in the arms of her equally naked professor, but it did. 

His cooking skills were also kind of impressive, and Clarke decided his pancakes were the best she had ever tasted in her life. They talked lively in the kitchen as he cooked, and laughed as he took a fork to give her a taste of his culinary creations. His eyes on her lips as she licked the remaining crumbs of the pancakes off them didn’t go unnoticed. 

He offered to walk her home, but she told him it was okay, that she didn’t live far away from his block, and that it was midday anyway. After some minutes of bickering, he finally gave in. 

At the door, he told her that he’d see her on Monday, and she’d nodded. She didn’t know where they stood - or where they wanted to stand. She gave him a small smile as a goodbye, but he grabbed her wrist just as she turned around to leave. 

A pause that felt like a lifetime. His eyes were almost pleading, and then, “Can I kiss you?”. 

She didn’t answer. Clarke closed the small gap between them and pressed her lips against his, softly. He placed his hands on her sides, but it wasn’t possessive. He wasn’t demanding, but sweet, Clarke noticed. He wasn’t trying to push her into anything. He just wanted to hold her. 

When they pulled apart, foreheads touching, he brought his hand to her face and caressed her cheek with his thumb, “I’m sorry, Clarke,” he breathed, “But this needs to stop. At least until you graduate.”

She nodded, her eyes closed, “I know,” she said, “I’m sorry, too, Bellamy,” she held her breath for what seemed like ages. It wasn’t fair, “I’ll see you around.”

He kissed her temple as she pulled away, “Goodbye, Princess.”

As Clarke walked back to her apartment, she checked her phone for the first time since the previous evening. Texts from Raven and Octavia flooded her screen.

And from her mother. 

She swallowed and put the device back in her pocket. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t worry about anything other than the most recent loss of her life: Bellamy Blake. It hurt. It hurt too much because they wanted to be with each other, they wanted to _try_. But they couldn’t, and it was killing her inside. 

Raven immediately started to bombard her with questions the second she stepped into their apartment. 

“There’s no point in denying it,” she smirked, “You slept over at his place, and I don’t even want to think about what you did all night.”

But Clarke couldn’t even give her a fake smile, “Whatever it could’ve been, it can’t happen anyway.”

“Until you graduate.”

“If he still wants to be with me then.”

“Don’t,” Raven’s tone was almost a warning, “Don’t go down that road, Clarke. You deserve happiness. Bellamy wants to see you happy. He’s your professor, and so what? You’re both being responsible adults. You’re willing to wait for each other.”

But Clarke couldn’t even think straight. She wanted to believe her, wanted to believe him. But what if he started to lose interest in her? What if he found somebody else, who he could actually be with? What if she didn’t deserve a happy ending, after all? 

She excused herself and went to hide under the covers of her bed. But she couldn’t sleep, couldn’t relax her mind. Because her phone was still in the pocket of her coat, being purposely ignored. She groaned and got out of bed to get it. She wouldn’t be able to ease her thoughts otherwise. 

When she pulled it out, she decided to read Octavia’s message first. 

‘ _My brother tells me you two are going on a date tonight. I would be lying if I said I’m not amused. Be patient with him, pls. He’s an overthinker. But he also cares about you a lot. Have fun, sister!_ ’

_Sister_. It was the first time Octavia had called her ‘sister’, and she couldn’t help but feel her stomach drop. She would’ve been over the moon in any other context, but not in a world where Bellamy and her could never be together. 

Clarke decided to ignore her text for the time being, and she hesitantly opened her mother’s chat. She gulped as she read her text:

‘ _Clarke, honey, how are you? I hope your last semester at university is going well’_. 

She gulped. No, it wasn’t going well at all, in fact. She continued:

‘ _I just wanted to ask you if you’d want to come to Polis next weekend. There’s someone I want you to meet. Tell me if you’re coming. Love you_ ’.

Her mother was seeing someone. There was no other explanation. They hadn’t talked to each other since way before Christmas (a holiday she hadn’t spent at home), and now she’d texted her out of the blue because ‘ _there’s someone I want you to meet_ ’. Great. 

Clarke didn’t know how to feel. She didn’t want to cry, she didn’t want to be angry, but she didn’t feel happy for her, either. She felt apathy. And she guessed it certainly wasn’t a good thing. Abby Griffin seeing someone other than her dad should be sparkling some kind of reaction in her, but it didn’t. She felt so tired, so sucked out of energy, that she just didn’t care anymore. 

‘ _Sure. See you in a few days_ ’, she replied. 

Turning off her phone, she went back under her covers. A place she wished she could hide in forever. 

* * *

She didn’t see him on Monday. She barely saw anyone on Monday, in fact. 

She went to class, did her assignments, and went back to bed. If Raven was worried about her, she didn’t say anything. 

But Tuesday came along, and with it Mr. Blake’s class. She barely made it there before the class started, and she made sure her eyes didn’t meet his throughout the whole lecture. She listened, she took notes, but she didn’t participate. 

It wasn’t like she meant to ignore him, not really. But it didn’t come naturally to her to pretend nothing had happened between them. Because every time she looked at him when he wasn’t looking, she remembered how his lips felt on hers, how his hands had held her, how his cock felt inside of her body.  _ Shit _ . She needed to calm down. _Breathe. Concentrate_. 

Bellamy said something about scheduling office hours with him to review their final papers, and she internally cursed. Was there any way to get out of it? Maybe they could do it via email, or something. She needed to find out. 

He dismissed the class a few minutes before he was meant to, and she hurried to pack her things and leave. But she didn’t need to. 

As she stood up from her desk, she saw Bellamy was already gone. 

* * *

It turned out there wasn’t a way to get out of office hours, so that was that. She scheduled it for that same evening, thinking it would be best to just get it over with. Her final paper was almost finished, anyway. There wouldn’t be much to talk about.

At 4 pm sharp, she knocked on his office door, and shivered when she heard his firm voice, “Come in!”

He was sitting casually on his chair, a bunch of papers spread out in front of him, and he was looking at her with piercing eyes. He put on his glasses, “Clarke, hello,” he greeted her, and she noticed the ‘Mr. Griffin’ was long gone. She gave him a small smile and sat in front of him. His office was tiny, but full of stuff. Books, mainly. And it smelled like him. 

Bellamy leaned over the desk, folding his hands together, “Tell me what you got for the final paper.”

“I’m actually already working on it,” she said. 

His eyes widened in surprise, “What is it about?”

“Nero.”

He snorted, “Interesting choice.”

She visibly relaxed, and gave him a shy smile as she spoke, “He was an interesting man, very into art.”

“Oh, absolutely,” the irony in his voice was making her feel relaxed and nervous at the same time. Because they were back to being just Bellamy and Clarke, art gallery Bellamy and Clarke. And not professor and student Bellamy and Clarke. And that couldn’t be good. 

“I feel like I should be making my essay about him from a psychological point of view instead, though,” she smirked, “It’s just… how could I  _ not _ make it about him, right?”, she saw the easy smile on Bellamy’s face, so she felt comfortable enough to keep talking, “He wanted to give Rome a new look, they didn’t let him do it, so he burned down the whole city just to have an excuse to rebuild it to his taste.”

“That’s what some historians say,” Bellamy reminded her, “But it wasn’t confirmed that he took part in the fire. I hope you explore those versions, too.”

“Of course,” Clarke said, “But I can’t help but think how _convenient_ it was for him, you know? I’m compiling some texts from Suetonius as evidence, too.”

Bellamy nodded, “Sounds good to me,” he wrote something in a piece of paper, “Make sure to email me your first draft once it’s done. Don’t worry about deadlines. The sooner you finish it, the better, right?”

“Right,” she cleared her throat, “If that’s all…”

Bellamy hesitated, “You are free to go if you want,” he paused, “But I wanted to ask you how you were doing. As your friend.”

As her friend. Of course. 

She debated whether to lie or not. Because she definitely wasn’t feeling great, and she thought her eyes would give it away. He seemed to be able to read her like a book, for some reason. So she settled for, “I’ve been better.”

“Want to talk about it?”

She sighed. Why not. There was nothing left to lose, nothing to gain. 

“My mother texted me a few days ago,” when he arched a confused eyebrow, she continued, “We don’t have a good relationship. We’ve been kind of ignoring each other since my father’s death.”

He nodded, “What did she want?”

“For me to drive up to our house for the weekend,” she swallowed, “Apparently there’s someone she wants me to meet.”

“And you think she’s seeing someone,” he stated. She nodded, “And you don’t like the idea.”

“It’s not that I don’t like it,” she clarified, “It’s just… It’s weird, okay? We haven’t talked to each other in over four months and now she wants me to meet her boyfriend, or whatever.” 

“Will you go?”

She nodded, unsure, “I told her I’d be there. But I’m not sure anymore.”

Bellamy stayed quiet for a few seconds, his hand playing nervously with his pen, “I think you should go,” his stare was serious, “I mean, your personal life is none of my business, but I’m talking from experience. My mom died almost 10 years ago, and sometimes I feel like I didn’t spend enough time with her. Like we could’ve been a lot closer.”

Clarke’s heart sank at his words. As his eyes sparkled, he continued, “But then one day you wake up and your mom isn’t there anymore. And there’s nothing you can do to fix it. There’s no second chance.”

She was holding her breath, she noticed. She had never seen him at the verge of tears, and she was hurting all over for him. She reached out over his desk and grabbed his hand, tangling their fingers together. He gave her a squeeze. 

“I’m sorry, Bellamy. I’m sorry you had to go through that, and everything else,” her voice was soft, comforting. 

“It’s okay, Clarke,” he gave her a small smile, “All I’m trying to do is tell you that your mother won’t be here forever, and that you still can fix whatever happened between you.”

She swallowed, “I’m afraid it may be too late.”

“It never is, if we are still breathing.”

His words pounded in her head, and she wanted to cry. But not then, not there. Not in front of him, in his very office. So she settled for a nod instead, “Thank you.”

“Of course,” he squeezed her hand again. God, she had missed his touch, “If you want to talk to me about anything, remember I’m just a text away.”

She knew they probably shouldn’t have any kind of non-professional contact outside university, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care at all, not anymore. Because Bellamy was her friend, she saw it now, and Clarke needed her friends. Perhaps she needed him a bit more. 

“I’ll keep it in mind,” she gave him one last squeeze before freeing herself from his touch. She immediately felt empty.

They stood up at the same time, “I probably shouldn’t keep you busy”, she said, “Your next student will be coming soon.”

He scratched the back of his head, “Actually, you’re my last,” he told her, “Not many people schedule office hours the same day I post them.”

She fought back a blush, “Right.”

She shouldn’t. She shouldn’t have let her following words roll off her tongue. But the damage was done, “Do you want to grab a coffee?”, she asked him, and then quickly added, “If...if you’re free.”

“I’m free.”

“Okay.”

“Let me...um, let me grab my jacket.”

Her heart was racing, and her mind was spinning. They shouldn’t go back to forbidden territory, but she couldn’t stand it any longer. She couldn’t pretend her stomach didn’t feel funny every time she saw him. He took his jacket, shoved his wallet into the back of his jeans, and started walking towards her. Clarke turned around to open the door, her hand already in the handle, and then she stopped.   


Her eyes fell on the lock. 

She shouldn’t. It was a bad idea. A horrible one, in fact.

_ Fuck it. _

In a quick movement, she locked the door and turned around to look at him, her back pressed against the wooden frame. He swallowed, “Clarke?”

“Take your jeans off.”

He froze, and his eyes widened. This couldn’t be happening. He thought he’d lost her, he thought he’d broken her heart and that she would never want to see him again. 

He wasn’t stupid enough to lose her again. Bellamy unbuckled his jeans quickly.

“On your chair,” she commanded, and he did what he was told. He sat back on his chair as she drew the blinds on the two windows of his office. He eyed her carefully, watching her every move. His grip on the armrests tightened in anticipation.

Clarke then moved to where he was sitting, and kneeled down in front of him. He gulped, the tent in his boxers almost in contact with her face. 

“Is this for me, Bellamy?”, she teased. 

_ Fuck _ . 

He hummed in response, unable to get the words out. She tugged his boxers down slowly, so painfully slowly he wanted to scream. She looked down at his very erected cock, and licked her lips. He was as big and thick as she remembered and  _ oh god _ , she couldn’t wait to take every inch of him in her mouth. 

She ran her palms down his thighs and dragged her nails lightly down his sides. He shivered at her cold touch. Then she ran her finger lightly from the bottom of his cock to the tip, feeling his length. He was huge. There was no possible way he’d fit inside her mouth. 

When she checked his expression (relaxed, watching her play with him), she took his cock in her hand, pumping it up and down a little, and watched as it quickly hardened in her grip. A drop of precum came out the slit at the top, and she licked it off slowly with the tip of her tongue. Bellamy grunted in response. 

She leaned down, sweeping her hair over her shoulder, and started by licking the head, tasting the wetness there. She watched as his grip on the armrests got even tighter, his knuckles turning white. She took the tip in her mouth and started moving downward. Her hand grabbed the base of his cock, and she started moving in a faster up-and-down movement. 

He ran his fingers through her hair, hand resting at the back of her head and gripping her there. She tried to go all the way down, but her throat closed, making her choke.

“Easy, babe,” he reassured her, “You don’t have to take it all in.”

She looked up at him, her innocent eyes driving him insane, “Your cock is too big for my mouth,” she pouted, teasing him. 

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” he said, and slowly pushed her head forward until her lips were wrapped around his length again, “That’s it. Good girl. Suck your professor’s cock.”

She hummed in response as she bobbed her head up and down on him, his words turning her on more than she’d ever admit. She stroked him with her hand in sync with the movements of her head, breathing through her nose. 

“ _ Fuck _ ,” he groaned, “Good girl. Just like that.”

She looked up at him, wanting nothing more than to see the pleasure on his face. His mouth was open, eyes glued on her lips. His hand was still guiding her movements at the back of her head. Always so demanding, she thought. But she wanted him to come, wanted to make him unravel like he’d done for her back at his apartment. 

She continued sucking him and pumping him up and down, adding a little twist to her grip that he seemed to enjoy a bit too much. 

“ _God_ , Clarke,” he said, “Fuck, baby. Your pretty little mouth feels so fucking good on my cock.”

His dirty talk got her going, and she desperately needed friction between her legs. She’d never been so turned on by giving someone a blowjob, but there she was. Coming undone by sucking Bellamy Blake off. 

She kept it up for a few minutes until his breath grew more rapid and he said, “I’m gonna come.”

She hummed in response, and started sucking him faster. His cock got harder and bigger, and her jaw stretched with it. She could feel his entire body stiffen. He moaned, a loud, guttural moan, and then she felt it. A pulse at the back of her throat, then a second, and a third. His fist on her hair was holding her head in place, and she couldn’t move. Her eyes widened as she felt him coming undone in her mouth. She swallowed. 

“ _ Oh my god _ , okay,” he panted, and looked down at her, her lips unwrapping from his cock and sucking on his tip, “Fuck, Clarke. You didn’t have to swallow.”

“I wanted to,” she said. 

She got up, her knees cracking, and she couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him. He had never looked so not-in-charge. It felt good to be the dominant one, she thought. 

He smirked, “My turn.”

Before she could register what was happening, he was on his feet, mouth pressed urgently against hers. Their tongues tangled together, and she couldn’t believe his cock was hard again against her leg. He tasted himself on her lips. A groan.

“I’m going to need you to bend over the desk, Ms. Griffin.”

She swallowed, and felt a strong pulse between her legs. 

The table was low enough that she could bend completely over. Bellamy lifted her skirt and brought down her tights, slowly. He dragged his palm up her thigh, lifting the hem of her skirt as he went. 

“Would it freak you out if I told you I’ve imagined this same scenario about a thousand times?”, his voice was low and deep, just like when he lectured. 

She shook her head no. She had imagined it a fair share of times, too. In his office, in an empty classroom, in the bathrooms. _Everywhere_. His hand then went to rest on her lower back, the other just below her ass. His fingers ran slow circles around her folds, and she let out a small whimper. 

“You’re so wet for me, Ms. Griffin,” he said, “Just how I like it.”

She swallowed, “What are you going to do to me, Mr. Blake?” 

He didn’t hesitate as he pushed his middle finger inside of her, and she felt so warm and tight around him his cock twitched. She jumped a little in surprise, letting out a high-pitched squeak, “Oh my god, Bellamy.”

“ _ Mr. Blake _ ,” he grunted, and added a second finger inside of her as punishment. 

“ _ Fuck _ ,” she flinched, “Mr. Blake.”

“That’s it, baby girl,” his pace quickened, and he knew she was close. He wasn’t going to allow her to release just yet. 

He slipped his fingers out. She suddenly felt a desire she’d never experienced, emptiness that demanded to be filled immediately. She wanted to cry in agony. 

“Clarke.”

Something was wrong. She looked back at him, worried, and he was looking back at her with the same expression, “I don’t have any condoms here,” he said. 

She shook her head, “Doesn’t matter,” she was desperate to be filled by him, “I’m on the pill. Clean. Are you?”

He smiled, “Definitely not on the pill,” she rolled her eyes at him, “But yeah, I’m clean.”

“Good,” she nodded, “Now fuck me, Mr. Blake.  _ Please _ .”

The thought of feeling his cock without any barriers between them was making her even more wet. She needed him inside her, urgently. 

The tip of his cock was brushing her entrance, her back to him as he grabbed her by her hips. Before she could process he was going to fuck her from behind (and _god_ , that’d been a fantasy of hers for the longest time) he pushed inside of her. _Hard_. She let out a scream, surprised by the sudden sensation of being filled completely, and subtle pain followed. 

“Good girl, all the way in,” he picked up the rhythm quickly, fucking her fast and hard. She braced herself on the edge of his desk. 

He slammed into her and she cried out, only a little bit in pain but the rest of it was just pure pleasure. 

“Harder,” she demanded, and he obliged immediately. 

He reached between her legs and rubbed his thumb in circles over her clit, “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Bellamy, oh my god. You fuck me so good.”

He smirked, “You like it when I fuck you, babe? Huh? You like being fucked by my thick, big cock?”

“Yes, yes! Oh god.”

She wanted him to come. Wanted to feel his cock empty inside of her. She needed to be filled, “Please, Mr. Blake, please come inside me.”

“I will, baby, I will,” he slowed down his movements, now deeper and more deliberate, “But I need you to come for me first, alright? Can you do that for me?”

She nodded as her hand travelled to her clit, rubbing it with fast movements. 

“That’s it, good girl.”

After a few seconds, he felt her orgasm building up, and he started thrusting more rapidly into her. He squeezed his eyes shut, stopped breathing and went completely still. Then, he let out a long moan that sounded nearly animalistic. Inside, she could feel his cock twitch and pulse, and then a wave of heat hit her as she came undone herself. Bellamy came inside of her next. His cum was all over her cunt, dripping down her leg.

Her professor had fucked her raw from behind, in his office, and then he had come inside of her. 

Her head started spinning. 

He stood still, breathing quickly, and she breathed with him. Eventually, he helped her up slowly, and she almost whimpered when he pulled out of her. Bellamy wrapped his arms around her and held her there for a while, as they both stood up in the middle of his office. An office neither of them could ever step into again without going back to this memory. 

He kissed her cheek, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she breathed, “You?”

“That was so fucking hot, Clarke,” he said, “The way you sucked my cock just…  _ God _ .”

She laughed, “I’m glad you liked it.”

“Oh, believe me,” he said, “‘Liked it’ is an understatement.”

She laughed again, and he kissed her cheek once more. As they got dressed, they both knew they had already crossed a line they couldn’t come back from. 

Their relationship had forever changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: filthy smut...again.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings for this chapter.
> 
> What did you guys think of the finale? To me it wasn’t the same without Bellamy there. At all. He deserved a happy ending so badly it actually makes my chest hurt :( I loved seeing Lexa and Abby again, but it was overall a sad last episode. So many people that deserved to be there were missing.
> 
> We may not have gotten Bellarke endgame, but we do have Beliza endgame, which is even more satisfying. Bellarke will forever live in our hearts, and in fanfiction! 
> 
> Happy reading :)

Clarke and Bellamy texted all week. 

She was busy with assignments and working on her art, and she knew Bellamy would be busy as well, but for some reason she wanted to be with him. Or at least _feel_ like he was with him. So texting was it. 

They texted about anything and everything. Clarke sent him a photo of her desk, purposely filled with  _ his _ readings and  _ his _ work so he would feel bad about being a hardass. He only mocked her in response. 

Bellamy, on the other hand, was a random texter, Clarke noticed. He’d send her a photo of a fat pigeon he saw on campus, and the next second he’d start talking about a passage of a book he was reading and had found either absolutely fascinating, or full of flaws. 

She’d also text him pictures of her art, and he’d tell her he wanted to see it live, that her work was too good to be sitting at her apartment. That she’d definitely must apply to Diyoza’s program. Clarke wanted to believe him. She wished she had the courage, wished she could push past her fear of rejection. 

He’d always text her good morning and good night, and when they’d see each other in class, they’d smile at each other knowingly. Because there was no point in denying that they weren’t just a professor and his student.   


Professors don’t fuck their students.  _ Twice _ .

Professors don’t feel their heart jump whenever a certain student catches their eye in class. 

Clarke would stay after his lectures for a bit, once everyone had left, just so they could talk in person. Before leaving, he’d steal a small kiss from her lips. 

“Have a good day, Princess,” he’d tell her. 

Their relationship was forbidden, and it wasn’t at all as exciting as they showed in movies. She didn’t particularly enjoy the rush that came with kissing him in the middle of an empty classroom, or the anxiety that built up in her chest when they were in public, the constant fear of being caught always present in her mind.   


Instead, she enjoyed the fond, intimate part of their relationship that allowed them to be together in freedom. But they weren’t dating, and technically they weren’t anything more than friends, so she couldn’t complain. 

They finally saw each other on Friday night, before Clarke would leave for the weekend. He invited her over to his apartment for Thai takeout. Which was something she totally wasn’t nervous about. Absolutely not. 

She knocked on his door at 7pm sharp, and he opened the door with a bright smile on his face. She noticed he was wearing grey sweatpants and a black (perhaps too tight) t-shirt, and his glasses, and she realised she had never seen him look so casual before. 

“You look cute,” she blurted out.

He snorted, “I look like a mess.”

“A  _ cute _ mess.”

He rolled his eyes playfully and let her in. She had already been at his apartment (how could she forget?), but now it felt like the very first time she was stepping foot in his space. 

His apartment was tiny and cozy, and she guessed he lived alone because it had only one bedroom. It smelled just like him, and the bunch of history books in every single stand was too nerdy to handle. She also spotted a few pictures of him and Octavia with a woman, when they were much younger, and she guessed she’d have to be their mother. 

They entered his living room, where two bags of takeout were already placed on the table, “How was your day?”, she asked him as they sat down on his couch perhaps a bit too close to each other, the TV playing softly in the background. 

He took a mouthful of food, “Meh,” he said, “Graded some papers, gym, then went to see O, then came here.”

“Sounds way more exciting than my day,” she teased. 

“Come on,” he leaned in and bumped his arm with hers, “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”

“Perhaps not,” she took a sip of cold water, “But tomorrow definitely will be.”

He gave her a sad look, “Clarke…”

She shook her head, “I’ve been thinking all week about it. I’m probably going to text her tomorrow and tell her something came up, and that I can’t go.”

“ _ Clarke _ ,” his tone was a warning now. When he spoke like that, he reminded her of Mr. Blake, and not Bellamy. Not  _ her _ Bellamy. 

But she shook her head again, “I don’t need to leave until lunchtime anyway,” she said, “I’ll wake up at 11 and decide then. But I’m probably not going. I just…,” she sighed, hiding her face in her hands, “I just don’t want to see her. She doesn’t  _ deserve _ to see me.” 

Bellamy’s eyes softened and he placed his food on the table, taking her between his arms afterwards, “I’m here for whatever you decide, yeah?”

She nodded. Bellamy would always be there to pick up the pieces, she knew that. And it only made things hurt more, because he was easily one of the best, purest human beings she’d ever met. But they couldn’t be in each other’s lives, not like that. Not yet. Perhaps not ever. 

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out, suddenly sitting back on the couch and away from his touch. She noticed her hand was still on his, “It’s okay if you think I’m a brat. I know I’m lucky that my mom is here and all, and I’m just… I’m just being stupid.”

“God, Clarke, no,” he was quick to react, “Everyone has a different relationship with their parents. My mom and I… we were close. Your mom and you aren’t, and that’s okay. I’m sure you love her anyway, and she loves you too.”

She wanted to believe him, really. But Abby Griffin definitely wasn’t getting any awards for mother of the century any time soon. She had hidden herself in the safe bubble that was her job when Clarke needed her the most, and she wasn’t sure she could ever forgive her for that. 

Bellamy was looking at her carefully, afraid she would break under his gaze. He squeezed her hand, his next words careful, “I don’t think you’re a brat for not wanting to see you mom, by the way,” he gave her a small smile, “Your relationship with your dad was idyllic, and I love hearing about it, even if my father has never been in my life. And I’m not a brat for ignoring him, either. It’s all the same. Shit happens.”

Perhaps it was true. Perhaps Bellamy really meant his words, and wasn’t saying them simply out of pity. She looked at the man in front of her, his eyes so full of worry she could almost see herself in them. Always anxious, always waiting for a bad thing to happen. She couldn’t take it anymore. 

In a swift movement, Clarke leaned forward and captured his lips on hers. His hand moved to the back of her neck, where he pulled her closer and deepened the kiss. Tongues dancing together in a heavenly rhythm, Bellamy knew he would move mountains to be with her. He didn’t care. Not anymore. Not after sacrificing himself all his life for the people he loved. Octavia would always ask him, ‘ _When will you put yourself first, big brother?_ ’. Well.  _ Now _ . 

He was done being last. 

He pulled away softly, “Look at me, sweetheart,” he breathed, foreheads touching. Blue eyes pierced into his, and he heard his own heart beating in his chest, “Will you wait for me, Clarke?”

She felt her hands shaking as she spoke, “I will wait for us, Bellamy.”

Their lips collided once again, but not for the last time in that cold, now turned warm night.

* * *

Clarke’s alarm went off at 11 am the following morning. She groaned as she got out of bed, her fingers instinctively touching her lips. They weren’t swollen anymore, but they still felt tingly from the previous night. 

She needed to make a decision. She would have to leave within the next hour, or not leave at all. After scanning the apartment for Raven and then realising she was at work, or perhaps at Harper’s, she went to the kitchen and made herself a cup of coffee. 

Her phone laid in front of her, screen dark, as she drank in silence. She thought of her conversation with Bellamy just a few hours ago, and she remembered how she told him she was behaving like a brat. And maybe she was, after all. It was just going to be one night. She wouldn’t probably see her mom much, anyway, as she would have to be at work. Just a dinner with her mother and, most probably, her boyfriend. 

_ Boyfriend _ . 

Clarke shivered. 

She went to her room next and eyed the bag she had packed the previous night, just in case. Anxiety started building up in her chest, and her feet couldn’t move. Would it really be that bad if she stayed? Her mother wouldn’t be surprised. Suddenly, her phone buzzed. A message from Bellamy. 

_ ‘Open the door.’ _

_ No _ . No way. There was no way he was-

The bell rang. 

_ Shit _ . 

She rushed towards the door, swinging it open. And sure enough, there he stood, “Bellamy, what the fuck?”

He was wearing his leather jacket and dark jeans, a backpack hanging over his shoulder, and his car keys dancing between his fingers. He looked at her up and down, “You’re not dressed.”

She blinked, “You’re in my house.”

“Well, technically I’m not  _ in _ your house. I’m standing at the door until-”

She grabbed his arm and yanked him inside. He chuckled, “Bellamy, what the fuck?”, she repeated, louder this time, as she closed the door behind her. 

“I’m driving you to your mom’s house,” his voice was calm, flat, just as if he had told her the most obvious thing in the world. 

“And you’re doing that because…”

“Because you won’t go if I don’t.”

She sighed, and pinched the bridge of her nose, “Bellamy…”

“Come on, Clarke. Get dressed,” he hurried her. 

She sighed again, “You don’t have to do this.”

“I want to. I want you to sort things out with her. And I know you want that, too. You’re just chickening out last minute,” he smirked. 

“Whatever,” she rolled her eyes, but she knew he was right. 

Under his impatient gaze, she went to the bathroom to take a quick shower, got dressed, and grabbed her bag. She took her phone out and sent a quick text to her mom, telling her that she was on her way. She hadn’t seen her since the summer. She should feel at least a tiny bit excited to go back home, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. 

“All set?”, Bellamy was sitting on her couch, waiting for her.

“We can go,” she nodded, and he followed her out of her apartment and into his car. 

He started the engine and programmed his GPS, and just like that they were on their way to Polis. Just a couple of hours away from her mom. She let out a frustrated sigh. 

Bellamy placed a comforting hand on her leg, his eyes focused on the road. He almost felt bad for dragging her out of the house, and making her go to Polis when she probably absolutely didn’t want to go. But Clarke was stubborn, just like him, and deep down he knew she’d regret it if she didn’t make things right with her. Or at least tried to. 

He had good memories of his mom, and none of his dad. She didn’t want Clarke to remember her dad with love, and her mom with hatred. Not if he could have a say in it.

Once they were on the highway, Clarke started fidgeting nervously, “What are we going to tell my mom?”

He briefly took his eyes off the road to look at her. Her forehead was frowned, “We’ll tell her the truth,” he said. 

Clarke snorted, “Okay, I can see how that conversation is going to go,” she cleared her throat, “ _ Mom, mom’s boyfriend, this is Bellamy. Also know as Mr. Blake. He’s my professor, a really good one, by the way, although he can be a bit intense sometimes _ ,” Bellamy chuckled at her words, “ _ Oh, I almost forgot. He kisses me sometimes. We’ve also had sex. Not a big deal. What’s for dinner, you say? _ ”

His smile was big, amused, “Alright, alright. Point taken, Princess,” he said, “But I was thinking something along the lines of  _ ‘Hey mom, this is Bellamy. My friend’ _ .”

“Yeah,” she raised a playful eyebrow, “That could work, too.”

The rest of the journey was spent mostly in comfortable silence, with only the soft sound of the radio playing in the background. But Clarke was nervous out of her mind, and her heart didn’t seem to calm down. She was about to introduce Bellamy to her mom, no less, and she truly didn’t know how Abby would react. They hadn’t seen each other in over six months, and now she was turning up with a guy. With her professor. But she didn’t need to know  _ that _ . 

To be fair, Clarke was 99% sure her mom had called her to introduce her to someone she was seeing. Why else would she need her to come down to Polis? Just to hang out? She could’ve done that months ago. 

Her thoughts trailed back to her dad. She missed him a little more every day, and she didn’t know how to feel about the whole situation. When Jake died, Clarke didn’t think her mom would move on quickly. Her parents had had a very long marriage, and they truly loved each other. But Clarke wasn’t disgusted by the idea of her mother finding somebody else, and she knew her dad wouldn’t be, either. He’d want his girls to be happy, because they deserved it.

Perhaps she deserved Bellamy, too. 

According to the GPS, they were twenty minutes away from Clarke’s house. She gulped and looked down at her phone. She had a message from Raven, telling her to relax and have fun. And another one from Octavia, wishing her good luck, and telling her that her brother snored a lot, but that she probably knew that already. And a winky face. Her cheeks flushed. 

“You okay?”, Bellamy asked her as he took a turn. Clarke could recognise the houses around them, and her heart started pounding rapidly in her chest. 

“Are you?”

Bellamy gave her an easy smile, “Absolutely.”

She arched an eyebrow, “Already got experience meeting the parents?”, her question was meant to be innocent, playful, but she genuinely wanted to know. Bellamy hadn’t told her anything about his past relationships. Not like he had to, of course. But still. 

“Actually, I’ve never done the whole meeting the parents thing,” he confessed, “My relationships never got serious enough for that, I guess.”

She gulped, and in an act of bravery she asked, “How many have you had?”

His eyes didn’t leave the road. They were getting closer, “Just two”, he said, “But we wanted different things, and I guess it wasn’t meant to last long”, he paused, “We ended on good terms, though. No hard feelings.”

“That’s good,” she nodded. 

“Yeah,” a pause. And then, “You don’t have to worry about them.”

She turned her head to look at him, “I don’t.”

“I’m just saying,” he sounded embarrassed, Clarke noticed, “I’m over them. I haven’t been with anyone in over a year. So, you know.”

She gulped, “I know,” she said, but she didn’t truly know what he meant. 

However, she forgot all about it when her house came into view. 

Bellamy parked in the driveway, and took an indiscreet look at Clarke’s childhood home. It was  _ huge _ , definitely a lot different from the little town house Octavia and him had grown up in. It was white, three stories, and a properly-taken-care-of front garden. Two cars were already parked in the property. When he turned his head to look at Clarke, she was fidgeting nervously. 

He carefully took her hand in his, “It’s going to be fine, Princess.”

She shook her head, not really believing his words. Because when it came to her mother, things couldn’t be just ‘fine’. She swallowed and unbuckled her seatbelt, getting out of the car and stretching her legs. 

God, she wished her dad would be there. She wished nothing more than to rush to the door and have him open it, immediately engulfing her into one of those bear hugs she missed so much. And then she’d introduce him to Bellamy, and they’d immediately hit it off, because she just  _ knew _ . She knew her father would approve of Bellamy the moment he laid eyes on him. 

But she would never find out. 

“Let’s go inside,” she grabbed her bag from the backseat and walked next to him in silence until they reached the front door. There were no noises coming from the house. She froze into place. 

Bellamy’s hand went to rest on her lower back, rubbing it up and down in a soothing way, “I’m here, Princess.”

Which she didn’t know if it made things better or worse. She sighed, and thought there was no backing out now. She was literally at the front door. So she rang the bell.

Nothing. She gulped. 

And then, footsteps. 

She could feel her pulse on her throat as Abby Griffin opened the door, a smile on her face as she looked at her daughter, “Clarke.”

She swallowed, “Hi, mom.”

And then it was a blur. Before she knew it, her mom had wrapped her in her arms, squeezing her out and shaking ever so slightly as she did so. She hugged her back, shyly, and she came to the strange realisation that hugging her mother after four months of non-existent communication didn’t feel so weird. 

When they pulled away, Clarke suddenly remembered the presence next to them, “Mom,” she cleared her throat, “This is Bellamy. A friend,” she didn’t think the last part had sounded very convincing, “He’s staying for the weekend. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Griffin. Thank you for letting me stay,” Bellamy gave her a polite smile and extended his hand to her. Her mother hesitated for a second before shaking it. 

“It’s nice to meet you too, Bellamy,” she said, “And please, call me Abby,” her eyes looked at him carefully before she turned her attention back to Clarke, “Come on, let’s go inside.”

The interior of her house did justice to the exterior, Bellamy thought. Everything looked polished and clean, and meticulously decorated, but something was off. To Bellamy it didn’t feel like a home, not anymore, and despite not having been there before. It had lost that title over the years, he thought. As Miller would put it, it was just something about the ‘vibe’. It was cold. 

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by Abby Griffin’s nervous tone. She was looking at her daughter now, “Clarke,” she started, and he swore he saw her hands shaking as she spoke, “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

When they entered the living room, a man was sitting on one end of the immense couch, a small smile on his lips. Bellamy froze.   


The man got up at the sight of them, but stopped right on his tracks, eyes glued on him, and frowned. 

“Bellamy Blake?” 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...shit hits the fan. 
> 
> Happy reading! :)
> 
> No warnings for this one.

_ Shit _ . 

“Mr. Kane?”, Bellamy stuttered, and Clarke looked between both men, confused. What the hell was going on?

“Do you know each other?”, Abby asked, taking the words right out of her daughter’s mouth. 

“Kind of,” the man, Mr. Kane, said, and extended his hand to Bellamy. They shared a firm handshake, almost too comfortably, “We work together.”

Clarke gulped.  _ Work _ ? As in…?

“Oh,” Abby frowned, “Do you work at Arkadia University, Bellamy?”

If Bellamy was nervous, he didn’t show it. Clarke, on the other hand, wanted the ground to swallow her. This couldn’t be happening. Not with her mom there. 

“Yes,” he said nonchalantly. The blonde wanted to scream, “I’m an Ancient History professor.”

Clarke wanted to ask a million questions, cry, scream, and run away all at the same time. But she was frozen in place, unable to function. She was pretty sure she had stopped breathing, too. Abby was looking between Clarke and him now, perplexed. She was most likely wondering why her daughter had brought  _ a professor _ home with her. Clarke wanted to die on the spot. She had no explanation for that one. 

And then, her mind clicked, “Are you  _ that _ Mr. Kane?”, she asked the man, “As in...Marcus Kane?”

He chuckled, a bit too casually for the situation, “That would be me, yes.”

_ Fuck _ . 

Her mom was dating the Dean of Arkadia University. 

_ No, no, no. _ This couldn’t be happening. Not when-

“Clarke,” Abby’s tone was firm, cold even, as she interrupted her thoughts, “Can we talk in the kitchen for a second?”

_ Shit _ . 

She knew where this was going, and she didn’t like it one bit. 

* * *

Standing in the kitchen in front of her mother, Clarke crossed her arms defensively. But she knew no shield could protect her from the confrontation that was bound to unfold. Abby shut the doors behind her, softly, leaving Bellamy and Marcus alone in the living room. She didn’t even want to know what they’d be talking about. 

Clarke was panicking. Before her mother could start the dreaded conversation, she said, almost accusatorially, “You have a boyfriend.”

Abby looked at with careful eyes before speaking, “We’ve been seeing each other since September, yes,” the older woman said. A pause, then, “I hope you’re okay with it.”

Clarke’s eyes widened, “Of course I’m okay with it, mom,” she said, “I’m just a little surprised. That’s all.”

“I wanted to wait before telling you,” Abby clarified.

“Mom,” she sighed, “You’re not a teenager. You don’t have to run your relationships by me.”

“I know, Clarke,” she said, “But Marcus is the first man I’ve been with since your father, and I didn’t know how you were going to take it.”

Perhaps some years ago she would’ve fumed. Stormed out of the house, even. But now she was in absolutely no place to talk, since she basically was in a (kind of) relationship with her professor. She wasn’t in any position to preach about who to date.

“I told you, mom, I’m fine with it,” she reassured her, “He seems like a nice guy.”

“He is,” her mom quickly said, “You’ll have a chance to get to know each other over dinner,” she gave her a small smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. 

Clarke nodded, and looked down at her feet nervously. She couldn’t remember the last face-to-face conversation she’d had with her mother, and it felt strange to stand in the same room as her. Whichever connection they might have had in the past, it was long gone. It felt like it. 

She then remembered her talk with Bellamy about making things right with her. She tried, she really wanted to give them a chance, but Clarke couldn’t push past the years of rejection and neglect. Not yet. Perhaps not soon. He’d have to understand. 

Abby’s raspy voice woke her up from her thoughts, “Marcus and I will start making dinner shortly,” she said. A pause, and then, “So, Bellamy is a professor.”

There it was. Clarke nodded, carefully. There was no point in hiding anymore, “Is he  _ your _ professor?”, Abby asked. 

“He is.”

Silence. 

Her mother’s judging eyes were on her, piercing on her soul with a kind of fire that was burning her alive. And she deserved all of it. 

It was the first time she realised how  _ wrong _ all of it was. They shouldn’t have tried to be friends in the first place, shouldn’t have become each other’s confidants, shouldn’t have kissed, shouldn’t have slept together. And, most definitely, Bellamy shouldn’t be at her house right now. Because that was not what professors and students were supposed to do, and they were being incredibly irresponsible. They had crossed too many lines, and this was no game. Too many things were at stake. 

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Clarke.”

She gave her a small nod, but she didn’t know, she truly didn’t know. 

And it was all sinking in now. 

Clarke wanted to cry as she opened the sliding doors to the living room and, to her surprise, found both men chatting lively over the TV. A small smile drew on her lips, “Hey,” she said, and felt self-conscious as they both turned their heads to look at her, “My mom said you’ll be making dinner shortly,” she told Marcus, a polite smile on her face. 

“Then I better go,” Clarke noticed his smile never seemed to fade away. He turned to Bellamy and clapped his shoulder in an amicable way, “It was great catching up with you, Bellamy.”

“Likewise,” he smiled back, and then the man disappeared into the kitchen. 

She had a million questions. If Marcus had asked him about the status of their relationship. If he had  _ fired _ him on the spot. But she didn’t have the energy to listen to any of it.

“Come on,” she took his hand and pushed him up the couch abruptly, “Let me show you to my room.”

Still holding hands, Bellamy followed Clarke up the stairs and into a room at the end of the corridor on the second floor. When she opened the door, he almost opened his mouth in awe. Her childhood bedroom was  _ enormous _ . Which, okay, he was kind of expecting it just by the size of the rest of the house, but this was something else. It had huge windows with window sills and everything, a queen-sized bed, and even a corner full of art supplies and an easel. He thought his entire childhood home had to be smaller than her bedroom. It was neatly tied up and clean, but it didn’t smell like Clarke. 

He smirked as he carefully put his bag on her bed, afraid of leaving even the tiniest stain, “You were so spoilt, Princess.”

“Oh, save it,” she rolled her eyes playfully, opening a window to get some fresh air. Having Bellamy, her  _ professor _ , on her childhood bedroom was doing things to her. And it shouldn’t. It totally shouldn’t. Not after the conversation she’d just had with her mother. 

“It’s true,” he came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her frame and pressing a small kiss to the crown of her head, “My Princess,” Clarke shivered, and leaned on his touch. It felt right, he thought, standing like that with her, holding her close. Bellamy didn’t want to let go.

“Bellamy,” she started after a few minutes, unsure. She left his embrace to look directly at him. She needed to see if he was as freaked out as she was, “What did Marcus say to you?”

He buried his hands in his pockets, “He asked me what I was doing here,” a pause, “And then we talked about something else.”

Clarke arched an eyebrow, “And what did you tell him?”

“That I was here for emotional support,” he shrugged.

“And he bought it?”

“Clarke,” he was serious now, “I  _ am _ here for emotional support.”

“Of course, I know, yeah,” her eyes widened, “But that’s not what I meant, Bellamy. A professor doesn’t go with a student to her childhood home for emotional support.”

He ran a hand through his face, sighing loudly as he looked past her, and out of the window, “I don’t want to talk about it right now, Clarke.”

His face looked cold, stiff, and she didn’t know how to feel. Bellamy had never behaved like this with her. So distant. He looked almost pissed. She nodded, not daring to look at him in the eye, “I’ll show you to the guest room.”

It was probably for the best if they didn’t sleep together, anyway. He didn’t know how much he had told Marcus, but she realised Abby technically didn’t know they had a thing. Which, okay, it was kind of obvious, but the words never left Clarke’s mouth. So. 

Still, she didn’t want things to get more complicated than they already were. She would survive one night without him.

“Clarke,” his voice was careful, as if he was afraid she’d run away, “We’ll talk later, alright?”

Clarke nodded, but didn’t answer. She’d made a mistake - she knew that now. She should’ve never gone back home. 

* * *

Dinner was awkward.

Clarke had expected it to be, anyway, but for entirely different reasons. She thought it would be weird to meet her mother’s new boyfriend after not having spoken to her for over four months. But that seemed to be the least of her problems. 

“So, Bellamy,” Abby started, as she served herself some more salad, “How are things going at work?”

Clarke looked at him discreetly. He swallowed his food, took a quick sip of water, and smiled at her mother as if her question wasn’t poisoned.  _ God, this man _ , “It’s going fairly well,” he answered, “Students are better behaved than I imagined, so that helps.”

Abby smiled in response, but Clarke noticed it wasn’t genuine, “I hope Clarke isn’t much trouble in class.”

_ Here we go _ . She debated whether to leave the table for good, or even go back to Arkadia that same night. She knew what her mother was doing.  _ Abby _ knew what she was doing. 

But Bellamy didn’t flinch, “She’s a bright student, aces all her classes,” he grinned, “But you probably knew that already.”

His words seemed innocent, but Clarke knew they were a slap to her mother’s face. Bellamy was aware that her mother and her didn’t talk much, and that Abby hadn’t exactly made an effort to check on her daughter in the last five years. His words were meant to make her feel bad, she thought, and for a second she wanted to get up and plant a soundly kiss on his lips to thank him. 

But she was still pissed. Kind of. 

“Clarke’s always been a great student,” she opted for. 

“What about you, Marcus?”, Clarke decided to step in, “How do you like being at Arkadia?”

“I’m still adjusting,” he smiled as he took a sip of wine, “It’s my first year, after all. But your university is a good one, not much trouble beyond the usual.”

For some reason, Finn Collins came to her mind. She remembered that time he’d ran away in the middle of a lecture to throw up, or that alleged threesome in one of the empty classrooms. She recalled he was rather the bad (stupid) boy, and that he’d been at the edge of being expelled a couple of times. She wondered if Marcus knew about him, if he had ever gotten into trouble again. 

Dinner passed slowly, amidst polite conversation and forced smiles. Marcus was a nice enough man, and seemed genuinely interested about Clarke, her art, and her plans for her future. The three of them talked lively throughout the evening, even if about trivial topics, while Abby stayed mostly quiet. 

And  _ ah, the irony _ , Clarke thought. She had been worried about going home to meet her mother’s boyfriend, when in fact it was her own mom who was making it all uncomfortable. 

By the time dessert came, Clarke forgot why she was still angry with Bellamy. He was being polite so far, lovely even, as he talked to Marcus and made an effort to include her mom into the conversation. There seemed to be no resentful undertone as Bellamy and Marcus spoke to one another, so Clarke guessed that perhaps he hadn’t been fired on the spot. _Yet_. Marcus surely had to know what was going on. 

At around 10 pm, they decided to call it a night. Marcus told them it had been a great evening, and that it had been lovely to meet her. And a ‘I’ll see you at Arkadia’ that made Clarke’s stomach drop. He went home, Bellamy went to take a shower, and she stayed behind with her mom. Not how she would’ve wanted to spend her night, but. 

“I like Marcus,” she told her truthfully, as she gathered the dirty dishes in the sink, “He seems like a nice person.”

Abby nodded, but didn’t say anything as she turned on the tap. The sound of water running and clicking dishes filled the room for a while. 

“Are you dating him?”

Clarke swallowed. Her mother had her back turned to her, and her tone was flat. Cold. Angry. 

“No,” she answered, truthfully. She was pretty sure Bellamy and her were  _ something _ , but definitely not a couple. 

“Then why is he here?”

There was no emotion in her voice. Nothing. 

“I didn’t want to come here by myself.”

Abby turned the tap off, although there was still a tall pile of dirty dishes next to her. She turned around abruptly, locking eyes with her daughter, her expression unreadable, “And don’t you have any other friends?,” her voice was louder now, “You don’t have any friends, that you have to bring your  _ professor _ home?”

Clarke gulped, but didn’t say anything. She knew how it all looked. She knew what all of it meant. 

Her mom continued, “I don’t think I need to remind you that what you’re doing is  _ illegal _ , Clarke.”

“We are not doing anything,” which wasn’t exactly true, but she didn’t need to know that. Clarke was getting pissed. 

Abby sighed, and pinched the bridge of her nose. She took her time to speak again, “I don’t believe you, Clarke,” she stated, “I don’t believe there’s nothing going on between you. I’m not blind. I know when my daughter is hiding something from me.”

“Oh,  _ you do _ ?”, she walked closer to Abby, pointing an accusing finger at her, “Because last time I checked, you haven’t given a damn about me in the last five years. So I don’t think you’re in a place to talk about my life right now.”

“I’m your  _ mother _ ,” she said, bitterly, “My job is to tell you when you’re making an irreversible mistake.”

“Maybe you should practice a bit of introspection while you’re at it,” she spat, “ _ Your _ mistakes are irreversible, mom. Bellamy has cared more about me in a month than you have in years. That should tell you something about your _impressive_ parenting skills.”

Abby stood still, “That’s not true.”

“It is,” Clarke stepped closer, “You’ve been neglecting me ever since dad died. Now you don’t get to decide who I spend my time with. It isn’t fair.”

The woman looked away, and Clarke knew the memory of her father had done something to her.  _ Good _ , she thought. She was done being the only one who suffered in that relationship. 

“Your father would be ashamed of you.”

Her words froze Clarke in place. Had she heard right? It felt as if her worst nightmare manifested before her eyes. She could almost visualise her father standing next to her mom, shaking his head in disappointment and telling her to go to her room and think about what she’d done, just like when she was a little girl. And no, it couldn’t be. 

Because she had imagined her dad meeting Bellamy more times then she’d like to admit. He’d be polite, as always, and give her a knowing but playful look that would make her turn tomato red. He’d make conversation with Bellamy and make him feel welcomed. And then, when they were alone, just the two of them, Jake would tell his daughter that she’d made the right choice.

But it was just wishful thinking. Because now she could see it clearly, her father standing before her, telling her she was irresponsible, and that she had not only ruined Bellamy’s future, but also her own. Who would like to be remembered as the girl who slept with her professor and cost him his job?

Clarke had heard enough. Without speaking another word, she turned around and stormed upstairs to her room, tears threatening to roll down her cheeks. It all felt too real. 

As she sprinted towards her bedroom, she felt a pair of strong hands grab her by the shoulders, “Hey, hey, hey,” Bellamy stopped her in the middle of the corridor, “What’s wrong, Clarke?”

She looked at him, agitated. He had just gotten out of the shower, and his tan skin was still wet. 

“I want to leave.”

Bellamy hesitated, “Let’s go to your room for now, okay?” 

Her vision was blurry with pain and anger, and she couldn’t process what was happening until Bellamy sat her on the bed and opened the window. The cold night air cleared her mind ever so slightly, “My mom,” she started. Her breath was getting heavy, “She...she…”

“Hey, hey, Princess. It’s okay. I’m here. Breathe,” he kneeled in front of her, taking her hands in his. She couldn’t be having a goddamned panic attack in front of him. Bellamy guided her through her breaths, “That’s it, Princess. You’re doing great. Breath with me, love.”

_ Love _ . Her chest tingled as she inhaled and exhaled in sync with him, squeezing his hands. 

“Better?”, he asked after a few minutes. 

She nodded, but didn’t release her grip on him, “My mom asked me if we were dating, said I was making an irreversible mistake,” she was speaking fast, as if trying to get the words out as quickly as possible, “And then she said...said…”

“What did she say, Princess?”

Clarke took a deep breath, “She said my dad would be ashamed of me.”

Bellamy looked at her carefully, “For being with me?”, when Clarke nodded, he pretended his stomach didn’t drop. He needed to be the strong one.  _ She _ needed him to be, “And do you think he would?”

Clarke hesitated, but quickly shook her head, “No,” and perhaps it was true. She knew her father just like the back of her hand, anyway. She could only hope she was right this time, “He would’ve loved you, Bellamy.”

He gave her a soft smile, “I’m sure I would’ve loved him, too.”

Clarke smiled back, and threw herself into his warm arms. He hugged her tightly, as if trying to squeeze all the sadness away, and breathed into her neck.  _ God, I love you so much.  _

_ Wait, what? _

“Bellamy?”, she asked, her voice small. 

“Yes, Princess”, he thanked the room was dark because he could only imagine how red his face had turned. 

“I want to leave,” she repeated. And she looked so fragile in that moment, so small and so sad, he almost said yes. 

“It’s late now,” he said, “But I promise we’ll leave first thing in the morning, alright?”

“Alright”, she hesitated, “I’m sorry you had to come and see me like this. And, you know, see Marcus.”

She was hoping he’d finally tell her what that ‘something’ they had talked about was, but she didn’t have such luck. He shook his head, “Don’t apologise, Clarke,” he squeezed her hand, “If anything, this is on me. I practically dragged you here.”

“Let’s just share the blame and go to bed,” she said, too tired to keep her brain functioning any longer. 

Bellamy chuckled, “Alright. We can do that.”

As he stood up to leave, Clarke pulled him back to her, “Stay,” her eyes were begging, and Bellamy softened at the sight of her, “ _ Please _ .”

“Of course, Princess.”

He closed the window, climbed into bed with her, and drew the covers over their bodies. Her head on his chest, their legs tangled together, and her inside of his embrace was all Bellamy needed to feel a little better about that evening. 

It took him some time to fall asleep, the conversation he’d had with Marcus replaying in his head. He looked down at Clarke, snoring softly on his chest, and smiled.

Nothing mattered except her. Except them. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings at the end to avoid spoilers.
> 
> Hello all! I’ve got good news AND bad news.
> 
> Bad news is that there are only 2 more chapters to this story (chapter 10 and epilogue), aaaand if you thought drama was over...think again.
> 
> But the good news is that I’m going to be posting both chapters at once tomorrow so you don’t have to wait another day.
> 
> So, yes, this fic is coming to an end tomorrow :( But there are more things coming! Stay tuned 💙

When they woke up the following morning, the house was empty. 

It wasn’t all that strange, though, as her mother generally worked at odd hours at the hospital. And anyway, Clarke felt much better when her mother wasn’t around. She didn’t need her judgmental eyes preying on her once more before she left. When she would come back to Polis, she didn’t know. But it wouldn’t be to see her, that was clear. 

She had listened to Bellamy and had gone home to try and rekindle the relationship they once had. It obviously hadn’t worked out, but Clarke didn’t feel like she had experienced any kind of loss. She had survived the last five years without her mother. She would survive five more. 

They got dressed in silence, the previous night constantly replaying in her head. It hadn’t gone well. At all. But she refused to let her time at Polis be ruined by her mother. She didn’t want that night to be her last memory of her hometown for a while. 

So she wasn’t sure if she should even bring it up, or if he’d think it was weird, or perhaps too soon, but she couldn’t stop herself as the words rolled off of her tongue, “I want to go see my dad.”

Bellamy was packing his bag when she spoke, her words making him stop, “With me?”, he asked carefully. 

“If that’s okay.”

He stood still for a second, unsure of his next move. Her dad was probably the most important person in Clarke’s life, and she wanted to visit him  _ with him _ . That had to mean something. That had to mean that-

“I’m sorry,” she suddenly said, noticing Bellamy’s silence. Her cheeks were flushed, “I shouldn’t have asked you.”

His eyes widened, “No, no, no,” he rushed to her side, taking her hands into his. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately, she noticed, “Clarke, it’s fine. I want to go,” he paused, “I want to meet your dad, yeah?”

She wasn’t looking at him, “I just thought…,” she sounded embarrassed, and Bellamy hated himself for it, “You were so quiet and you looked so freaked out. I thought I’d crossed a line.”

_ We’ve crossed too many lines already _ , he thought. 

Bellamy shook his head. Her dad was the sole reason Clarke still came to Polis, and he couldn’t really blame her. Not after the previous night. He wouldn’t give her another bad memory of that weekend. 

“We’ll go now, okay?,” he pulled her into an embrace and kissed the crown of her head. He felt her nod against his chest, and she hugged him tighter. God, his heart was about to combust. 

They finished packing and hopped into the car. The ride to the cemetery was quiet, and Bellamy could almost hear the gears working inside her head. Her eyes looked lost in thought, and he couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit of anger. 

She didn’t deserve it. Any of it. Clarke was kind, funny, attentive, warm, bright, so fucking beautiful it hurt his soul, and she had been through a lot of shit already. He tightened the grip on the wheel. 

Bellamy couldn’t help but feel a wave of protectiveness wash over him, similar to what he felt for Octavia, but not quite.  _ My sister, my responsibility _ , had been his mantra for the past 21 years of his life. But Clarke wasn’t his responsibility, not really. 

Clarke didn’t need anyone to look after her like Octavia had when she was younger. She was self-sufficient, independent, and certainly stronger than him at times. It wasn’t the same feeling, but Bellamy couldn’t quite put his finger on it nonetheless. 

He didn’t want to patronise her -  _ god, no _ . It was the last thing on his mind. But he wanted to shield her from all the bad things in the world, so that they’d hit him instead. He could only hope she felt as safe with him as he felt with her. 

A sudden wave of tranquility creeped up his chest as they made their way to the entrance of the cemetery, walking in silence hand in hand. Bellamy had never been a regular in such places. Aurora had wished to be cremated, her ashes floated in the wind on Mount Weather. It was her favourite spot, but Bellamy dreaded it. Their last family holiday together was spent camping at the mountain, a few weeks before Aurora fell ill. He hadn’t dared to go back ever since. 

Perhaps people were meant to feel at peace at cemeteries, he thought. Clarke didn’t seem distraught, so that was a good sign. 

Eventually Clarke stopped in front of a big, grey, tombstone that was surrounded by beautiful and mildly fresh flowers.  _ The flowers she brought when she missed my first lecture _ . He felt disgusted at himself for having snapped at her, when he didn’t even know what she was going through. 

“This is him,” Clarke’s voice brought him back to reality. 

He looked at the cold stone. _Jake Griffin_ , it read. _Loving son, husband, and father._ _Your kind soul will forever live in us_. 

Bellamy’s heart wrenched, and he squeezed Clarke’s hand out of habit. He swallowed, “You never told me how he passed away.”

Clarke’s eyes were glued to the tombstone as she spoke, “Car accident,” she said. A pause. Then, “He was supposed to pick me up from an art class,” he squeezed her hand again, hoping it would make her feel better. She wasn’t alone, and he wanted her to know that, “Drunk driver.” 

A life that was taken too soon, Bellamy thought. Just like his mother’s.

“I’m sorry, Clarke,” he whispered. 

Her voice showed no emotion as she spoke, “My mom blamed me for a while,” Bellamy’s head snapped in her direction, but she wasn’t looking at him, “Told me he wouldn’t have died if I had pursued medicine instead. That he wouldn’t have died if I hadn’t taken those stupid art classes.”

His blood boiled. Had he heard right? Was Abby Griffin out of her fucking mind? 

“It was the drunk driver’s fault, Clarke,” he opted for diplomacy, even though his insides were burning with rage, “It was  _ definitely _ not your fault.”

“I know that now,” her voice was weak.  _ God, please, don’t cry _ . He didn’t think he’d hold it together if she started crying. And he didn’t want to cry with her, not when he was supposed to stay strong for both of them, “But I blamed myself for years. I guess I believed her.”

“Don’t say that,” he said, “You’re an incredible artist, Clarke. Your dad would be so immensely proud of you. We all are.  _ I am _ .”

She gave him a small nod, and stayed quiet for a while. A sad smile drew in her lips, “I’m so sorry you had to meet like this.”

His stomach dropped. He didn’t know what to say. He wanted to tell her that he was sorry too, because he would’ve wanted nothing more than to meet Jake Griffin in person. From what she had told him, he was a remarkable, compassionate, loving man that would’ve welcomed him into the family with open arms. 

And god, his mother would’ve loved Clarke, too. 

He couldn’t start crying, not now, not in front of her.

Bellamy took a deep breath. 

“I’m resigning.”

_ Now _ Clarke was looking at him, “What?”

But he wasn’t looking at her, “I’m quitting being a professor.”

“Bellamy, what the hell?”, she was agitated now, “ _ Why _ ?”

He wanted nothing more than to tell her the truth. But how would she react? What if he had misinterpreted everything? What if-

“ _ Bellamy Blake _ .”

He let out a sigh, “I want to be with you, okay?”

Clarke’s features softened as he continued, a wave of shock in her eyes. She couldn’t find the words. 

“I’m done sacrificing my entire life for everyone else, and not even stopping once to think about what  _ I _ want,” he was looking at her now, “And I want to be with you, Clarke.”

She didn’t say anything. She couldn’t. Not when her world had completely crumbled at her feet. 

She launched herself in his arms, pressing her face against his warm chest, breathing him in. His arms immediately wrapped around her shaking form, his hand carefully caressing her hair. She felt her cheeks getting wet. 

“Bellamy,” she looked up at him, “I want to be with you, too,” she smiled, “But I don’t want you to quit a job that you’re so passionate about. Not for me, Bellamy. You told me how much you needed it, and you’re  _ so good _ at it. I don’t want-.”

“Princess,” he smiled softly at her as he took a strand of blonde hair and tucked it behind her ear, “I’m not that crazy. I have a plan B. Don’t worry about it.”

She arched an eyebrow, “A plan B?”

He nodded, hugging her closer to his chest, “I first thought about it a few months before meeting you, how perhaps university wasn’t for me, after all. Not when I could be of better use somewhere else,” she was looking attentively at him, “Some weeks ago I applied for a position as a teacher in one of the high schools in Arkadia. They gave me the job.”

Her smile grew wider, “Bellamy!”, she hugged him again, more eagerly this time, “That’s amazing! Are you excited?”

He beamed, “Actually, yes,” he confessed, “I mean, teenagers are nowhere near as easy as adults, but they need someone like me there. Someone who actually gives a fuck.”

“You’re going to be amazing,” she said, truthfully, “They’re going to love you.”

He chuckled, “I hope so,” he paused, “Actually, that’s what I was talking about with Marcus last night,” he continued, seeing her confused expression, “I told him that I’d be quitting by the end of the school year, that I had gotten another job. He wasn’t pissed about it, and wished me the best of luck. So there’s that.”

“Did he say anything about us?”, she asked carefully. 

“Yeah,” he shrugged, “He told me he’d stay quiet because you were Abby’s daughter, and because I would be resigning anyways. But he told me to be careful.”

Clarke nodded, taking his words in. Okay, that was a good thing. She wouldn’t get into trouble, and neither would he. 

She visibly relaxed, and shot him a mischievous smile, “Girls and boys are going to be all over you, though,” he raised a playful eyebrow at her, “ _ Oh my god! Look how hot Mr. Blake is! I want him to kiss me on the lips _ .”

He chuckled at her poorly-executed imitation of a 15-year-old. She couldn’t help but laugh at herself, too. 

“Well, that won’t be a problem,” he smiled, “I’ll tell them I have a girlfriend, and that I’m out of the market.”

She crossed her arms playfully, “A girlfriend, huh?”, she teased, “Do I know her?”

He shrugged, “Don’t know if you’ll want to,” he said, “She’s pretty annoying.”

“I know the feeling,” Clarke played along, “My boyfriend is a huge nerd.”

He chuckled, and picked her up in his arms. She was laughing now, and god, it was the most amazing sound he’d ever heard. He pressed their foreheads together, savouring the anticipation. 

“Kiss your girlfriend, Blake.”

She didn’t have to tell him twice. 

* * *

The drive back to Arkadia was the complete opposite to their journey to Polis. There was not a moment of silence between them, as they talked about everything and anything, and Bellamy gave her a quick kiss every time they stopped at a red light. 

Clarke couldn’t stop smiling, and neither could he. Life seemed perfect for that brief moment. 

And then they got home.

“Clarke,” Bellamy scratched the back of his head nervously as he walked her to her apartment. She gave him a questioning look, and he continued, “I’m sorry I have to say this after this horrible weekend, but-.”

“We can’t be together right now,” Clarke interrupted him, a sad, knowing smile on her lips, “I know that.”

Bellamy bit his lower lip nervously, “I  _ want _ us to be together,” he said, “But not in public. Not when Marcus will be keeping an eye on us.”

Clarke nodded. He would be resigning in less than three months, anyway, but it didn’t mean his reputation (and hers) couldn’t be ruined in the meantime. She understood it was for the better. But it still hurt. 

“I think I can pretend to be just your student for a little longer,” she smirked as they reached her front door, although she didn’t know if that was true.

“Thank you,” he said, “It’s not what I want, either.”

“But it is what we have to do,” she continued, as if trying to remind herself, “We got lucky with Marcus.”

“Yeah, we did.”

Bellamy grabbed her hand, savouring their last moments together before they had to go back to pretending. To pretend he wasn’t in love with her. Because  _ fuck _ . His heart combusted every time she looked at him, and his stomach felt funny when they touched. He had never felt like this, so on-edge, so not in control. 

Just as he was leaning in to kiss her, a loud thump came from inside Clarke’s apartment, and then a couple of loud voices could be heard. She arched her eyebrow in confusion, and turned the key to open the door. 

“Hi, Clarke,” Jasper Jordan stood in front of the door, waving his hand at her innocently, “I kind of dropped some of Raven’s engineering stuff. She’s pissed. So yeah, I’m going to hide under your bed until she calms down. Which means I’ll probably be there for a while. Hope you don’t mind. Hi, Bellamy.”

“Where the fuck are you?!,” Raven’s angry voice echoed through the hallway.

Jasper stiffened, “That’s my cue to go. See you!”

As the boy disappeared down the hallway, Clarke turned to look at Bellamy, who was smiling in amusement. He shrugged. 

“Hey, I didn’t know you were coming so early,” Raven’s form emerged from the living room, a visibly messy ponytail dancing everywhere. 

“I’ll tell you later,” Clarke said, “What’s with Jasper?”

“He’s a fucking moron,” she huffed. Then, her eyes laid on Bellamy, “Hey, Bellamy. Are you coming to Grounders as well?”

“I’m sorry?”, Bellamy arched an eyebrow. 

Raven was now looking at Clarke, “You didn’t read my text?”, the blonde shook her head. She had been so engulfed in conversation with Bellamy that she had forgotten all about her phone, “We are going to Grounders tonight, just for a change. And you’re  _ definitely _ coming.”

“I don’t know, Rae,” Clarke shrugged, “I’m quite tired from the weekend, and tomorrow is Monday and-.”

“We won’t stay for too long,” Raven interrupted. She eyed her friend carefully, “I know you’ve had a shitty weekend. No offence, Bellamy.”

“None taken.”

“And I want you to forget all about it,” the brunette continued, “You don’t even have to get drunk. Everyone’s coming, guys. You should, too.”

Clarke looked at Bellamy, who just shrugged in response. She sighed, “Okay,” she gave in, “Just for a few hours.”

“Great,” she beamed. Then, she looked at Bellamy, “You’re coming too,” it wasn’t a question. 

He put his hands up in defeat, “Do I have a choice?”

Just as Raven was about to respond, they saw Jasper’s head peeking through Clarke’s bedroom door, and her angry expression took over her face again. 

“I will literally kill you, Jasper!”

* * *

To say Grounders was packed would be an understatement. 

Bellamy wasn’t a big fan of parties, not necessarily, but there was no way he’d be missing that night. Not when Clarke looked so painfully stunning he wanted to scream. 

As they pushed their way onto the dancefloor, his hands travelled to her hips and settled there. He needed  _ any _ excuse to touch her. She looked so gorgeous in her little black dress it was impossible to take his eyes off her. 

He felt relaxed, more than he should. Their friends were there, even Octavia and Lincoln had joined the group, and they couldn’t care less about their relationship status. They paid no mind to them whatsoever, treating them as they would treat Miller and Brian, or Murphy and Emori, or  _ Raven and Wick _ . That was one couple neither of them saw coming. 

“We are just co-workers,” Raven had told Clarke when Wick made an appearance at their apartment that night, more ready to join the party. 

Clarke had raised an amused eyebrow at her, “Keep telling yourself that,” she teased, “It won’t work. I’m talking from experience.”

Bellamy pretended he hadn’t heard that, because he sure didn’t need any more distractions. Her body was distracting him enough already. 

His relaxed state had to do, mostly, with the fact that Grounders was a kind of exclusive club at Arkadia, so he guessed none of his students would be there. He’d overheard them once or twice in class, essentially spitting venom about that place. Something to do with elitism, inflated prices, or something like that. 

So yeah, definitely not university student-friendly. Which was for the best. 

He felt free to let his hands roam Clarke’s breathtaking figure, and tease her a little. They hadn’t slept together in days, and he didn’t even know how he had managed to handle it. Because once he tasted Clarke, he knew he’d never have enough. 

And as she danced with Jasper and Maya, swinging her hips side to side, a carefree expression in her face, he knew he’d waited enough. He walked towards her, a certain darkness in his eyes, and put his hands on her hips yet again. She turned around to look at him, widening her eyes in response, but she didn’t move away. Her arms went around his neck as she moved closer, and started  _ grinding _ on him. 

He swallowed.

Clarke was pressed against him as they danced, lips dangerously close. She was technically his girlfriend, but she was also more than technically his student, and what if someone saw them? Did anyone from Arkadia University go to Grounders, anyway? Someone who just happened to know both of them? Recognise them while drunk?

He tightened his grip on her hips, foreheads touching as they moved (he didn’t even know what song was playing, and honestly he didn’t care). He looked down and  _ fuck _ . Clarke’s dress didn’t leave a lot to the imagination. And now that he’d seen her naked, had tasted her skin, he wanted her. He wanted to rip that stupid little dress of her off, and fuck her senseles. 

His jeans tightened and he understood he had waited long enough. Without saying a word, he dragged Clarke out of the dancefloor, and squeezed them through the crowd. Everyone around them was drunk, he noticed, or worse, so he didn’t hesitate as he pushed Clarke inside of one of the (very unhygienic) bathrooms, locking the door behind him. 

Clarke arched a playful eyebrow at him, “You’re going to fuck me in the bathroom of a club?”

“I’d fuck you in a dumpster if it was necessary, just to be clear.”

She chuckled, “Then fuck me,  _ Professor _ .”

He groaned and launched himself towards her, wrapping her in his arms. He kissed her hungrily, slipping his tongue in hers immediately, biting on her lower lip. His hands moved to the hem of her short dress, and pulled it up quickly. Clarke’s hips buckled into his, desperate for friction. Her hands went to the button of his jeans, pulling them down in one swift motion along with his boxers. 

His fingers roamed the slim fabric of her thong, a sweet moan escaping her lips as she felt his touch. She was probably wearing it to tease him. Too bad it wouldn’t stay on her too long.

She couldn’t bear the ancipation as he touched her, “ _ Bellamy _ ,” she pleaded, “Please just fuck me. I can’t wait any longer.”

His eyes darkened, “Needy Princes,” he smirked, and in a quick movement he pushed her up against the wall, and she wrapped her legs around his torso. He pulled her stupidly sexy thong aside, the tip of his cock teasing her entrance, “Tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

Clarke wanted to scream, “Please, Bellamy, just fuck me,” she said, desperately, “I want you to fuck me so hard I’ll feel it for days.”

_ Fuck _ . 

He pushed into her immediately, fucking her hard and fast, no time to adjust to his _huge_ length. Clarke was moaning, and whimpering, and screaming, but the loud music of the club could be heard outside, so Bellamy knew there was no way they’d get caught. He let her be as loud as she wanted.

“ _ Shit, fuck _ ,” he grunted, “You’re so tight, baby. You feel so fucking amazing.”

She tugged at his hair, unable to hold herself together any longer. That position made his cock feel even bigger and tighter around her walls, and it sent her head spinning. There was no way she’d get enough of him. They were too good together. 

“I’m going to come,” she moaned after not too long. Bellamy was thrusting into her against a bathroom wall, in a crowded club, their friends outside. It couldn’t get much hotter than that, “Come inside me, Bellamy. Fill me up,  _ oh my god _ .”

The music was still blasting outside, but Bellamy could only hear her.  _ Fuck _ , she was so fucking sexy. Everything about her turned him on beyond control, and as she screamed his name on top of her lungs, he felt her walls pulsate around his length. He couldn’t wait another second, and thrusted into her faster as she rode her orgasm. His breath quickened, and then he stopped completely. He grunted loudly as he spilled inside of her.

In this defence, they hadn’t fucked each other in over a week, so he had a lot in. Because when he pulled out of her, his cum was dripping from her insides, down her leg and to the floor beneath them. 

“Jesus, Bellamy,” Clarke breathed, amused, “And you call  _ me _ needy.”

“Shut up,” he smiled, and took a bunch of toilet paper so she could clean herself. 

“I’ve missed you fucking me,” she said, and he almost choked at her bluntness. 

He blinked, “Then I better make up for the past few days, huh?”

“I would like nothing more,” she smirked. 

When she cleaned up, Bellamy took her into his arms and kissed her deeply again. They wouldn’t be able to do it for a while, not as often as he’d like, anyway, and it was driving him insane. 

“Shall we go back to our friends?”, he asked her after their make out session, a little out of breath. God, he was feeling like a sneaky teenager. 

“Yeah,” she smirked, “But you’re coming to my apartment tonight. I want you to fuck me until the sun comes up.”

“ _ Fuck _ ,” his lips attached to hers again, hands travelling everywhere. He couldn’t believe he was getting all worked up again. 

“I love you, Bellamy,” she whispered when he pulled away, and she thought maybe he hadn’t heard her over the loud music, “So much.”

But he had, “I love you too, Clarke,” he pecked her lips softly, “My Princess.”

It had never felt so real.  _ They _ had never felt so real. For the first time in his 28 years of life, Bellamy could say with his whole chest that he was truly, genuinely happy. And he was keen on making her even happier than she made him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mentions of death, car accidents, and filthy smut.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings at the end to avoid spoilers.
> 
> This is the last chapter! The next one is an epilogue (it’s already up!). I hope you enjoyed this story :)
> 
> Thank you endlessly for all your kudos and comments! They make my day 💙

The day was going alright, Bellamy thought. He had spent the night with Clarke, not quite sleeping. He was pretty sure their respective neighbours loathed them by now. 

He was pretty exhausted, but he had three classes to get through, and the privilege of staying in bed and ignoring responsibilities didn’t apply to teachers. He wouldn’t be seeing Clarke that day in class, which disappointed him. But it was probably for the best. Having his girlfriend (god,  _ girlfriend _ ) attending his lectures didn’t help with his state, at all. Not when they had to pretend that their relationship was strictly professional.

Not when they had to pretend there wasn’t love between them. 

The hours passed by quickly, nonetheless, between lectures and students staying after class to talk to him and ask him questions about whatever they had come up with that day. He wasn’t oblivious to the fact that a few girls (and a couple of guys) in his class shamelessly tried to flirt with him at every chance they got. _ If they only knew _ . 

On a normal occasion, he didn’t quite mind staying after class, but he was feeling anxious that day. He could only text Clarke briefly during breaks, and he wouldn’t have time for that if they kept him busy. 

But oh, well. That was his job, after all. 

A job he was lucky to still have, if he was being completely honest. 

So yeah, his morning wasn’t going all that bad. Until he saw John Murphy sprint through the doors of his now empty classroom. 

“ _ Bellamy _ ,” his voice sounded urgent, his forehead frowned. What was he doing here?

“Yes?”, Bellamy had just dismissed his students, the last class of his day. He was about to pick up his phone and text Clarke. 

Murphy was out of breath as he spoke, as if he’d been running, “Have you seen Clarke?”

His heart started pounding rapidly in his chest, “No, why? Has something happened to her?”

“Not yet,” he breathed, “Bellamy, man. This is bad. This is  _ really _ bad.”

Bellamy felt nauseous as he heard him speak, “Murphy, for fucks sake, what the fuck is going on?”, his pulse was racing, and his head started spinning. Was Clarke alright? What the hell did Murphy mean by ‘not yet’? Bellamy wanted to punch something.

“You know how I’m friends with Atom, McCreary and Finn?”,  _ Finn _ . Of course. How could he forget about that disgusting bastard. Bellamy nodded, “Finn told us he had some pictures,” he paused, “Of you and Clarke. Like, hooking up.”

No, no, no, no. This couldn’t be happening. 

“What pictures?”, he asked carefully. 

“Yesterday, at Grounders,” Murphy said, “Apparently he was there, too. I didn’t see him, or I’d have told you. But he saw you all over each other on the dancefloor and took some pictures. He’s planning to go to the Board with them.  _ Today _ .”

He ran as fast as his legs could carry him, leaving Murphy behind. He took his phone out as he sprinted towards Marcus’ office, and clumsily dialed Clarke’s number. 

“Pick up, Clarke, come on,” he panted as he kept running. 

One tone. Then two, three. 

“Bellamy?”, the confusion in her voice was evident. 

“Clarke,” he breathed out, “I’m so sorry, Clarke. I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Are you running?”

“Where are you?”

“Campus.”

“Go to Marcus’ office  _ right now. _ I’ll meet you there in a minute.” 

“What the hell is going on?”, she was agitated now. 

“Finn,” he said, out of breath, “He took pictures of us last night. He’s going to the Board.”

A pause. 

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Clarke’s heart started beating so fast she feared it might explode, “Fuck, okay. I’ll be there in a second.”

And she hung up. 

He could see the building a few feet away, and he wondered if it would be too late. Marcus had been clear with him: the only reason he hadn’t fired him and expelled her on the spot was because Clarke was Abby’s daughter, and she knew how bad it had been for her. He refused to do that to her daughter two months away from graduation. But only because he would be resigning anyway, and under the condition that they’d be careful. 

And they hadn’t been.

They had hooked up in a public space, where anyone could see them. They had given in into their desires and compromising both of their reputations. He couldn’t bear the thought of Clarke’s future going down the drain like that. Not when she was so fucking brilliant. It was all his fault, and he’d never be able to live with it. 

When he reached the Dean’s office, it was deserted. Marcus’ door was closed, and he wondered if perhaps it was too late. 

A few moments later, he heard hurried steps coming from around the corner, and sure enough Clarke’s blonde hair caught his eye as she launched herself into him, “I’m so sorry, Bellamy,” she was shaking as she spoke.

“It’s my fault, Clarke,” he tried pushing her away slightly, in case someone saw them, “I’ll take full responsibility.”

“You won’t,” she snapped, “This is on me, too.”

It was hard not to touch her, not to be physically supportive when she needed it the most. But the situation was bad already, and it wouldn’t get any better if Marcus suddenly walked out and saw them hugging. Or worse. 

He hesitated, “Let’s go inside, okay?”, he squeezed her shoulder as she nodded. 

He looked at Clarke, who was tapping her foot nervously. She couldn’t believe this was happening. Two more months, and they would’ve gotten away with it. But Finn Collins had to ruin it.  _ That fucking bastard _ . 

After what seemed like forever, Bellamy walked to the door and knocked. Nothing. 

And then, “Come in!”

Bellamy turned the knob softly, Clarke closely behind him. When he opened the door, they saw Marcus sitting down at his desk, an easy smile on his lips, and no one else in sight.  _ Maybe Finn hadn’t arrived yet _ , he thought. 

“Clarke, Bellamy,” he gestures to the two seats in front of him, “Please, sit down. I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

Bellamy let Clarke inside and closed the door behind him. He hesitated as he took a seat in front of Marcus. At first sight, nothing seemed to be wrong. The man looked relaxed, friendly, just like always. Not a frown in sight. 

He leaned over on his desk, hands folded together as he looked carefully at both of them. And then he somehow knew. Bellamy knew they were  _ fucked _ . And not in the way he’d hope for. 

“I’m sure you came here for the same reason I wanted to talk to you,” he started, his voice showing no emotion. Clarke nodded. Bellamy didn’t move a muscle.

His heart only started racing more and more when Marcus leaned back on his chair, a deep sigh escaping his lips. It was unbelievable. He had somehow managed to fuck everything up, his entire career if you will, in his first official year of teaching. That must’ve broken a new record, or something, Bellamy thought to himself.

Marcus pinched the bridge of his nose as he spoke, “I like you, guys,” he said. Not what Bellamy was expecting, at all, “I don’t think you’re bad people. I know both of you have gone through a lot.”

_ I’m sure you do _ , Clarke thought. It was weird, to say the least, to be in her mother’s boyfriend office, about to be expelled from university for hooking up with a professor. A professor that was now her boyfriend, no less. She resisted the urge to turn around and look for the hidden camera. Because there was just no way her life had turned into  _ that _ .

“Finn Collins came about an hour ago with some pictures,” he opened a drawer on his desk and pulled out three blurry, yet at the same time quite clear images. 

Clarke’s face turned bright red as she looked at them. The first one showed Bellamy and her holding hands, standing very close to each other, as they walked through a crowd of people. It would’ve even passed as an innocent friendship, if their relationship didn’t have to be strictly professional. Definitely not something that’d be accepted from a professor and his student. 

The second one was a bit more blurry, but what was going on was fairly obvious. Bellamy tensed on his seat as he looked at it: Clarke with her arms around his neck, his hands on her hips as they danced. The third one was definitely not better. It was a rather impressively neat image of them, evidently making out on the dancefloor, bodies tangled together. 

He wanted to throw up. They had been caught.

“No one has seen the pictures,” Marcus said, but Clarke’s anxiety levels didn’t come down. The man sighed again, and she thought maybe he was also dreading this conversation. He turned his attention to Bellamy, “We talked about this, Mr. Blake. You agreed you’ll be discreet. And it certainly hasn’t worked out.”

Bellamy didn’t know what to say. Anything he’d tell him to explain himself would only sound like an excuse.

Clarke stepped in, “We didn’t think anyone from Arkadia University would be there,” her voice was low, afraid, “It’s not an excuse, of course. We thought we were being careful.”

Marcus shook his head in disappointment, “I wouldn’t call this being careful enough, Ms. Griffin,” he pointed at the pictures, “Again, no one has seen these pictures. Nobody else outside of this room knows what’s going on,” he said, and for a second Clarke felt hopeful. Hopeful that it’d stay between those four walls. Hopeful that they’d be forgiven. Although she didn’t think she deserved it. 

The image of her dad flooded her mind yet again.  _ I’m so disappointed in you, Clarke.  _

“This will stay between the three of us,” he stated, but he quickly continued, “But we can’t risk this happening again. This institution has a reputation to maintain.”

A reputation he no longer had, Bellamy thought. 

“Mr. Blake, I know you told me you’d be resigning by the end of June,” the man let out a long, tired sigh, “But I’m afraid it’ll be too late by then.”

Clarke’s head started spinning, and before she could hold herself together, “ _ No _ ,” she shifted on her seat.

“Clarke-”

“No, Bellamy,” she frowned, then turned to Marcus, “He can’t just...quit now. We are working on our final papers. There are only two months left of class, it’ll just be a mess for us. For the  _ students _ .”

“I know, Ms. Griffin,” he nodded, “But under any other circumstances, Mr. Blake would be fired immediately, and the consequences for his career would be a lot worse. For yours, too.”

Clarke held her breath, unable to process that they’d really been caught. She just wanted a decent, relaxing, fun last year at university. But she had to throw it all out of the window because she couldn’t keep her legs closed around a professor. She wanted to cry. She wanted to crawl into a hole and never come back up. 

“I’m resigning, then,” Bellamy spoke calmly, “I will stop by tomorrow to do all the required paperwork.”

Marcus nodded, “Okay,” he turned his attention to Clarke, “A new professor will be assigned to your class. We’ll try to make the transition as smooth as possible, and primarily focus on your final paper so you can all graduate.”

“What about Finn Collins?,” Bellamy asked, his eyes dark, “He’ll not hesitate to spread the word.”

A knowing smile appeared on Marcus' lips, “Mr. Collins will not be around to do such a thing.”

Clarke couldn’t help it, “ _ What _ ?”

He cleared his throat, “Professor Pike caught him…,” he paused, as if trying to find the words, “Let’s say, distributing illegal substances on campus.”

_ Weed _ . He was a dealer? Well, Clarke thought, she was a professor-fucker, so she wasn’t really in the position to judge. 

“You’ll be able to graduate, Ms. Griffin,” Marcus continued, “Mr. Blake resigning should be enough to fix this situation. I’m truly sorry it had to end like this.”

“Me, too,” Clarke muttered, as she started to stand up, “Would that be all, Mr. Kane?”

“It would be all, Mr. Griffin,” he nodded. 

“Alright. Thank you.”

And without saying another word, she headed for the door. Would he tell her mom? She had been right all along. She probably was right about her dad being ashamed of her, as well. It was over. It was all over. 

“Clarke,” his voice echoed inside her ears as she walked down the empty halls.  _ Don’t turn around _ . 

A hand grabbed her elbow, “ _ Clarke _ ,” he sounded weirdly calm for someone who had just been  _ fired _ . Because of her, “Let’s talk for a minute. It’s all okay, Princess.” 

She yanked her arm out of his grip, “Don’t call me that,” her voice broke, “And no, Bellamy, it’s not okay. None of this is okay, and we should’ve stopped a long time ago.  _ Shit _ , we shouldn’t have even started it.”

His eyes widened, like a deer caught in headlights. The only sound he could hear was that of his own heart pounding, “Clarke…”

“Enough is enough, Bellamy,” she looked pissed now, “I’ve cost you your job. I’d fucking say that’s enough.”

“I cost myself my own job,” he said firmly. He was not going to let her carry all the blame. 

“Maybe,” her voice croaky, “Maybe you’re just as stupid as I am,” he opened his mouth to speak, but she interrupted him, “I don’t want to hear it, Bellamy.  _ Enough _ . This…,” tears started forming in her eyes, and he wanted nothing more than to pull her inside his embrace. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to do it ever again, “This is over, Bellamy. We’re done.”

She shook her head as tears started rolling down her red cheeks, and turned around before he could really process what had just happened. 

Bellamy wanted to say something. He wanted to fight back. He wanted to run after her, scream from the top of his lungs that he  _ loved _ her. He wanted to dry her tears, tell her it would be alright. But would it all really be alright?

As he watched her get away from him, from  _ them _ , he bit his lower lip to stop the tears from falling. 

It was useless. 

He had opened his heart, gone after what he wanted for once. He had loved with all his soul. He had risked everything. 

And for nothing. 

* * *

Clarke adjusted her gown on her shoulders as she waited for her name to be called out, the bright June sun warming up her face. For a second, she allowed herself to imagine her father standing in the crowd behind her, waiting excitedly as she climbed the stairs to pick her diploma. For a second, she pretended it was all okay. 

But it wasn’t. And no amount of daydreaming could heal the pain in her heart. 

Lincoln was sitting next to her, fidgeting nervously. She smiled to herself, “It’s okay,” she leaned in on him, whispering into his ear.

“I know,” he was now tapping his foot, “How are you holding up?”

“Better than you are,” she smirked. She hesitated, “Did Octavia come to see you?”

She knew what the answer would be. But she needed to know. 

Her life had crumbled to pieces the last day she saw Bellamy. The rest of March was spent between her bedroom and her living room. Sometimes the bathroom. She barely saw her friends, and she barely answered her phone, either. They all knew. She assumed they all were thinking she was an irresponsible idiot. Who the fuck hooks up with a professor, anyway?

She deserved to be alone, and she wanted to do just that. Raven stopped trying to get her outside the apartment after a month. 

Octavia had tried to contact her a couple of times, but she never answered. She saw her text messages, though. Of course she would. 

_ ‘Hey, Clarke. I hope you are as okay as you can be. Just wanted to check on you. We are not mad at you, ok? No one is. Love you, O.’ _

She wasn’t sure of that. She’d be mad at herself if she was one of her friends, or at least disappointed. How can someone ruin their future just like that? For something as ridiculous and trivial as a relationship?

A week later, she sent another text. 

_ ‘Clarke, hi. I just wanted to tell you that it’s ok if you don’t want to answer my texts. I understand. Just promise me you’ll reach out once you’re better. I know you read these. Love you, O.’ _

Octavia stopped texting for a while, which Clarke thought was understandable. But then, one month before her graduation, her phone buzzed again.

_ ‘Hey, Clarke. I hope you’re feeling better. It’s probably not my place to tell you, but in case it gives you some closure, here we go. Bellamy is okay. As okay as he can be. He’s miserable, ngl. But he’s doing better. He’s now tutoring kids in the afternoons, which he says would prepare him for next September. At least he’s not jobless, so yeah. I really hope you’re okay. Love you, O.’ _

That was all she knew about Bellamy. 

It was difficult, having to move on with her life without him in the picture. She missed his random texts, their takeout nights, his laugh, his touch. His sometimes boring lectures. 

Who was she trying to fool? Bellamy Blake was incapable of being boring. 

Class hadn’t been the same without him, nothing was the same. Everyone came up with different versions of why Professor Blake had to quit in the middle of the semester, but none of them came close to the truth. Because the truth was much, much worse than whichever scenario they could imagine. 

After a few weeks of grieving, and a few weeks of anger, she came to the shocking conclusion that she was no longer mad at him. Why would she be? Her energy was better invested in her future, she realised, and she actually surprised herself by daring to apply to Diyoza’s program, a day before the closing deadline. 

Two days before graduation, she was informed that she had been admitted. 

That’s when she knew. The sudden burst of pride and happiness she felt, she needed to tell someone. She needed to tell  _ him _ . He’d be so proud of her, and would probably take her out to celebrate. He would most likely make love to her, too, just to make her feel even better. He would hold her afterwards, until she fell asleep in his arms. 

But reality hit, and he wasn’t there to see her thrive. He wouldn’t be anymore. 

Clarke missed him. 

Everyday she did. But she couldn’t go back, not after having ruined his future. What would he think? What would he say?  _ ‘You’ve got the nerve to come back running to me after ruining everything.’  _

She couldn’t stand the mere thought of being rejected by Bellamy. Not when she knew how fucking good it felt to be loved by him. 

Would he still love her?

Lincoln’s name got called next. He stood up awkwardly, and started walking towards the stage as an overly excited voice cheered from the crowd. Clarke turned around discreetly and, sure enough, it was Octavia. 

She was alone.

Marcus Kane called her name some minutes later. It was weird, walking up to the stage so he would give her her diploma, a diploma she’d been so close to losing. Marcus squeezed her hand, and gave her a knowing and sympathetic look as he handled her the awaited diploma. She thought it would mean everything, to graduate. Now it felt like nothing. 

Her mom wasn’t there. She hadn’t expected her to be, anyway. It had been her father, the one who had always supported her in pursuing an art career instead of medicine. And after the show they’d put on back in February in Polis, she was almost certain she wouldn’t show up. But still. 

Clarke knew her friends would be there, and that was enough. She spotted Raven in the crowd, cheering loudly at her with Jasper, Monty, Harper and Murphy. She smiled to herself. At least not everything in her life had been ruined. 

The ceremony passed by quickly. It was all a blur for her, anyway. She should’ve enjoyed her last year to the fullest. She shouldn’t be in that state of mind. But she deserved it. Every second of it, every ounce of pain. 

“You did it, Griffin,” Raven pulled her into a tight hug once the ceremony was over. 

The sun was shining on them, and she was boiling under her robe, “Against all odds,” she gave her a small smile, eyeing Octavia carefully, a few feet away from her. She didn’t meet her gaze. 

Raven picked up on what was racing through her mind, “He’s not here,” she said, simply, a sad undertone in her voice. 

“I didn’t expect him to be.”

The brunette nodded, slowly, “It’s probably for the best.”

Clarke knew she was right. She wouldn’t know how to act if he was there. He didn’t have a reason to be, anyway. Sure, there was Lincoln, but he probably understood his absence. Octavia would, too. 

Her heart wrenched at the thought. She had ruined their group of friends, too. Now that summer was here, they’d want to celebrate and make the most of it, and they’d have to go back and forth so Bellamy and her wouldn’t see each other. She wanted to say she didn’t mind being around him, but she couldn’t. Because she very much minded it. 

She wanted to cry. She had really ruined it all.

“We are going to Harper’s apartment for some drinks,” Raven said, “You coming?”

She hesitated. She probably needed the distraction. But not right now. Not when she was one thought away from a major mental breakdown. 

“I’ll be there later,” she assured her, “I just need a second to clear my mind.”

“Okay,” a pause, “Cheer up for me, okay Clarke? You graduated. It’s over. Start a new chapter.”

She wanted to do that, really. Perhaps more than anything. But how would she? Her family life was ruined, her love life was nonexistent and also ruined, and her friendships were on the edge of breaking as well. She could feel it. 

Clarke excused herself from the group, careful not to make eye contact with Octavia. She couldn’t. She had Bellamy’s eyes, and  _ god no _ . Crying was the last thing she needed. 

She started walking without any real destination. Her feet were carrying her away from the crowd, and she let them. It was nice, she thought, not to have her mind working. It was nice to just  _ exist _ . 

For a second she felt as if she was floating. She didn’t know where she was heading, or where she’d go next. Or tomorrow. Or the following month. It almost felt like an out of body experience. She was watching events unfold from above, unable to have a say in anything. It was comfortable.  _ Relaxing _ . 

When her conscience seemed to come back to her, she realised she was no longer outside. Her eyes darted to the walls around her, the empty hallway, the shut doors. Her feet kept moving, and she didn’t know where she was going.

She didn’t care. She was too tired to function. 

Suddenly, she stopped. She held her breath as her eyes laid on the door to her left. She swallowed. 

Room 72. 

Her Ancient Rome Studies class. 

_ Bellamy’s class _ . 

Not anymore. Because of her. 

Clarke hesitated. The building was probably empty, so room 72 would be, too. Right? 

For some reason, her heart started racing as she imagined herself opening the door, and finding Bellamy there. The class would be full of students up to the last seat, because that was just the reaction he got from everyone. Every student was eager to take his class - perhaps for his hotness, perhaps for Ancient Rome, perhaps because he was one hell of an amazing professor. He’d be talking lively, gesturing with his hands like he always did, encouraging participation and giving them horrendously boring readings for homework. She smiled at the thought. 

That was the life she wouldn’t get to live anymore. Because she had ruined it for him. For them. 

In an act of bravery, she turned the handle and opened the door. 

Empty. 

She didn’t know what she was expecting, honestly. It was foolish of her to have hope in the situation. Of course he wouldn’t be there, waiting for her. He had no reason to be. 

She walked slowly towards his desk, carefully touching the dark wood with the tip of her fingers. Her hand was on fire. 

She remembered the first time she’d met him, in that very desk. Where he’d been a total ass to her. She snorted out loud at the memory.  _ Oh, how things have ended _ . 

It had been the best months of her life, and then some of the worst. Bellamy’s loss couldn’t compare to her father’s, because she’d actually have the chance to run into Bellamy at some point. But it still hurt. Perhaps she’d see him tomorrow, perhaps in ten years. Would he be married in ten years? Would he have children? 

The thought brought an indescribable warm feeling to her chest. She allowed herself to imagine Bellamy’s children for a moment. He’d totally want to have a girl, she thought. He just  _ looked _ like he’d be thrilled to have a little girl, who would remind him so much of Octavia he wouldn’t be able to function properly. She’d probably have his curly hair, his beautiful lips, his freckles.  _ Oh god, his freckles _ . 

She shouldn’t torture herself like that. It was doing absolutely nothing for her sanity. But she didn’t want to stop. She felt the need to punish herself for having been so fucking dumb. 

Because she could’ve had it all. Now that she was officially a graduate, they’d be allowed to be together. They'd be free to show their love to each other in public, in private,  _ everywhere _ . And they’d be in each other’s lives as friends, lovers, and partners. Her chest hurt. It hurt so fucking much. Because she’d had it all at her fingertips, and now she had nothing. 

“You’re here.” 

Her breath stopped. Her mind was playing tricks on her. It had to be. There was no way her brain had registered that voice.  _ His _ voice. Clarke turned around clumsily, in the direction of the deep sound that had made her heart jump. 

Their eyes locked. 

“Bellamy.”

His hands were buried in his pockets, and his eyes looked tired. He had also grown a short beard, she noticed. But it was  _ him _ . And he was standing at the door of room 72. 

“What are you doing here?”, she asked, voice so small she doubted he had heard her. 

“I came to see you,” he said, no hesitation in his voice. Her pulse accelerated, “Congratulations on graduating. I knew you could do it,” he smiled. 

Her mind couldn’t register what was happening, “I didn’t see you during the ceremony,” she stated. 

Bellamy arched a playful eyebrow, “Were you looking for me?”

She gulped, “Yes.”

She had been. She had wanted nothing more than to turn around and see him, cheering her on as she got her diploma. Giving her one of those crushing hugs she’d missed so fucking badly. Take her home afterwards, and just love her. 

“I’m here now.”

He was. And now what?

Clarke didn’t say anything. She couldn’t find the words. She’d never thought she’d see him again, not like this. Not in a world where he wanted to see her. 

Bellamy seemed to understand. Of course, he always did. He read her like a book, and she guessed that hadn’t changed. She doubted it ever would. 

He took a few slow steps in her direction. 

“I’ve missed you,” his tone was serious now, his expression unreadable, “How have you been?”

Clarke gulped, but took a hesitant step towards him too, “Good,” she said, and she couldn’t stop herself, “I’ve been accepted to Diyoza’s program.”

He couldn’t suppress a smile, “I knew you would,” he said, “I’m really proud of you.”

She nodded, unsure of what to do next, “Octavia mentioned you’ve been tutoring kids.”

“I have. It’s good, fun even,” he paused, and took another step towards her. She could hear the drumming of her ears, “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too.”

He shook his head, “Don’t be.”

“Not everything is on you,” Clarke said, firmly, “We both ruined it.”

Bellamy stayed quiet for a few minutes. Did she say something wrong? Did she fuck everything up yet again? Did she-

“I know I’m probably an ass for this,” his voice was raspy, and she could tell he was nervous, “But Clarke…,” he sighed loudly, ran a hand through his hair, and looked at her with exhausted eyes. She didn’t know how to feel, “Clarke. I know that I probably don’t deserve you. I know that you’re onto better things, and that you’ve forgotten about me. But I haven’t.”

She held her breath. He continued, “These past few months have been hell for me. I started tutoring not even two weeks after quitting. It wasn’t about my job anymore. It never was. It was about  _ you _ , Clarke,” she noticed they were now closer than before, “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. About how you were doing, how you were feeling. I had completely ruined you, and I wasn’t even there to pick up the pieces.”

“Bellamy,” she started, “You haven’t  _ ruined _ me. You did nothing but take care of me, you-”

“No, Clarke,” he interrupted, “It was both of us. There’s no point in going back and forth about this. It’s not about that anymore. It’s about you, Clarke. And me.  _ Us _ .”

“Us,” she repeated. 

He paused, “Is there still an us?”

Clarke didn’t hesitate, “There is still an us, Bellamy.”

And perhaps they were making yet another irreversible mistake, even worse than their last one. And maybe their relationship could never happen, not for real. But it didn’t feel like it. 

Standing in front of him, in the middle of their old classroom, where they had met, and talked, and kissed, and ignored each other, and forgiven each other, she knew one thing was clear. They had been given a second chance. Why? She wasn’t going to question it any further. She might not know why, but she knew that it wouldn’t be ruined again. They’ll make sure of that. 

His expression visibly relaxed. The air in the room changed, she noticed. It suddenly felt familiar. Like the man standing before her. 

She didn’t hesitate as she walked the remaining distance between them, crossing an imaginary bridge between a nightmare and a dream. When their lips collided, her heart exploded inside her chest. His hands on her hips were burning her skin, carving into it to never let go. He breathed her in, tasting her lips, remembering how she felt under his touch. 

This was home. 

“I love you, Bellamy,” she breathed out, forehead pressed against his, her hands around his neck, shaking, “I love you so fucking much it’s unreal.”

His eyes were closed, and he tried not to choke on his own words as he spoke. He was  _ not _ going to cry, “I’m so sorry, Clarke. I’m sorry this happened. I’m sorry we lost so much time. I love you. I’m in love with you, Clarke Griffin.  _ So fucking much _ .” 

She let out a breathy laugh, and brought his lips to hers again. She couldn’t get enough. She couldn’t stop kissing him, touching him,  _ being _ with him. And perhaps, she thought, now she wouldn’t need to stop. 

When they pulled away, Bellamy’s eyes were wet, but so were hers, and he chuckled because they were a mess. But it was their mess. It was  _ them _ . And they could be a mess together. He’d really like that. 

“Clarke Griffin,” he took her hand in his, and Clarke’s breath momentarily stopped. He got down on one knee, a big smile on his lips, “Will you be my girlfriend again?”

“ _ Oh my god _ ,” she launched herself into his arms, knocking him down to the floor. He chuckled at her eagerness, and hugged her tightly to his chest, “Of course, Bellamy. Of course I’ll be your girlfriend again. And always.”

Clarke started peppering his face with small kisses, unable to stop.  _ God _ , she couldn’t believe he was real. She couldn’t believe he was there, right in room 72 with her, as her  _ boyfriend _ , again. 

Bellamy laughed, “I’m not sure I’ll  _ always _ want you to be my girlfriend, though,” he teased. 

Clarke panicked for a second before her mind clicked, “Are you proposing to me, Bellamy Blake?”

“I will,” he grinned, “But not before I take you on a proper, first official date once and for all.”

“I’d very much like that,” she smiled softly, and blushed when his fingers started caressing the skin on her flushed cheeks. 

“I love you, Princess,” he pressed his warm lips to her forehead, “And I’ll love you forever.”

“I love you too, Bellamy. Forever.”

Clarke closed her eyes, savouring this very moment. She was sitting on Bellamy’s lap, engulfed in his familiar embrace, in the middle of the room where everything started. Where everything had been destroyed and built back up. 

But she was sure now.

He was her forever, and she was his. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mentions of drugs, angst. FLUFF


	11. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter! It’s been an incredible journey to write this story, thank you so much for your support!
> 
> There’s a bit of drama here, but the good kind 😉 I’m thinking of writing an independent one-shot following the events of this epilogue...tell me if you’d be interested in that!
> 
> Stay tuned for new stories 💙

**One year later…**

It’s funny, Clarke thought, how life can be complete shit one day, and turn into your wildest dream the next.

Being with Bellamy made her the happiest she’d ever been. She had learnt to be patient, to love, and to be loved. There was nothing unsure about their relationship, no loose ends. And he made sure she lived up to her nickname every day.

They moved in together during the summer holidays. Bellamy was tired of living in his tiny, dark apartment, and it didn’t make sense to move in on his own. Not when she literally spent every night and every morning, sometimes every afternoon too, at his place. 

It hadn’t really been that shocking when he proposed the idea. Clarke knew she wasn’t going to live with Raven her whole life - it made sense. The brunette didn’t make a fuss out of it, either. She muttered an ‘About damn time’, and started packing her things almost immediately. Clarke knew she was joking, but the support their friends showed towards their relationship still warmed her heart. 

They both knew it really wasn’t about convenience, or splitting the rent. It didn’t feel rushed, or weird to move in together so soon after getting together. For them, it had felt like a lifetime. 

“There’s just something so familiar about him,” Clarke told Raven as they both finished packing up her things, “I feel like I’ve known him for a long time.”

“That, my friend,” Raven grinned, “Is called a soulmate.”

Up to that point, Clarke didn’t really believe in such things. Soulmates, twin flames, whatever. It just sounded too unrealistic. What were the odds of running into the one person you were meant to be with? Out of billions of people? Not logical at all. 

But she was sure Bellamy and her had  _ something _ . Something special, atypical. They had to. She couldn’t really pointpoint exactly what it was, but she didn’t let it bother her. She had a reality to focus on. A rather happy one. 

After two weeks of living together, Clarke’s first exhibition took place at Arkadia Great Hall. Bellamy was there, all their friends were there (even Marcus stopped to congratulate her, alone), and Clarke thought life couldn’t get much better than that. And yet it did, the following week, when Diyoza practically  _ begged _ her to accept a position as a graphic designer in one of her companies. She didn’t think twice.

September rolled around, and Bellamy started his classes at Arkadia High. Clarke was nervous for him. What if he hated his new job? What if he was miserable? She would hate herself for it. But when he came back from his first day, a huge grin on his face, and started talking nonstop about how  _ fascinating _ the experience had been, her worries dissipated. 

Life was finally good and, for a while, uneventful. She preferred it that way, after the rocky events of the previous year. She took in every moment of peace she had with Bellamy, and appreciated them to the fullest. This was the life she had been dreaming of. 

They spent the Christmas holidays with Octavia and Lincoln, visiting his family over at TonDC. His family was  _ huge _ , and he had a ton of small cousins that loved Bellamy for some reason. Who was she kidding, though? Bellamy was just that lovable. Of course kids would stick to him like glue. The sight had brought a funny feeling to her heart. 

She didn’t see her mom during the holidays, nor did she get any kind of text or call from her. Clarke didn’t reach out, either. It was probably for the best. She guessed Abby was aware of her current relationship status, as Marcus would’ve most likely told her. But it was no longer her concern. 

Clarke went back to Polis, though, a couple of times, to see her dad. To tell him how much her life had changed since graduation, and how damn happy she was. She could almost feel his arms wrapped around her, his contagious excitement. When she visited him, she never felt alone despite being there by herself.

That Christmas, Harper and Monty got engaged. It had been a long time coming, but it still was something to weep over. They wanted a summer wedding, which meant they had to start planning  _ quickly _ . Harper asked Raven, Octavia, Emori, Maya and her to be maids of honour, and that’s when it all sank in for her. She couldn’t believe her friends of so many years were getting  _ married _ .

It turned out wedding planning was exhausting, Clarke concluded. It was to be expected, but going through it had put her organising skills to the test. She couldn’t have done it more willingly, though - it was Harper and Monty they were talking about. And they deserved the world. 

And now there she was,  _ finally _ , wearing a stunning blue dress and standing in a beautifully-decorated garden, courtesy of Octavia, lively chatter around her, as Bellamy’s hand rested softly on her lower back. She leaned into his touch. 

“I can’t believe Monty and Harper are ditching us later to have sex,” Murphy took a long sip of champagne. Bellamy gave him a weird look, “Come on, this is their wedding as much as it is ours. They should be getting hammered with us,” he joked. 

“As best man,” Jasper interrupted, “I will make the  _ huge _ effort of having their drinks on their behalf tonight.”

Clarke chuckled, and Bellamy shook his head in despair. Emori and Maya came back a few moments later, two glasses of champagne each. Maya handed one to Clarke, “Here. I haven’t seen you drink all evening.”

“I’m good, thanks,” she quickly said, turning the drink down. Maya arched an eyebrow, “It’s just too hot for alcohol. I really want to be sober for this.”

“Boring,” Murphy sang, but winked at her when she stuck her tongue out. 

“You okay?”, Bellamy asked her, rubbing her back up and down. She nodded in response. 

He really was a sight, and it was doing things to her. He was wearing a black suit, hair slightly shorter, blue tie matching her dress, and he was  _ glowing _ . And sexy.  _ Oh god _ , she had really struggled not to jump him at every chance she got during the ceremony. Clarke was pretty sure they’d hook up in the bathrooms later, anyway. Because how could they not.

But the fact was that she wasn’t okay. Not as okay as she would’ve liked, anyway. 

It had been a fairly uneventful year, but a happy year nonetheless. She was doing great professionally, romantically, and although she lacked in the mother-daughter department, she had amazing friends to tilt the balance.

And a month ago it had all gone to hell.

Free days were a rare occurrence at work. It wasn’t as if Diyoza overworked them, but jeez. The woman was demanding, and sometimes Clarke felt as if she couldn’t even relax. So when she gave her a free day (other than weekends) for the first time in over a year, Clarke didn’t even want to make the most of it. She just wanted to  _ sleep _ . 

It was Friday, and Bellamy had woken up early to go to class. He gave her a kiss on the forehead before he left, just like always, and then she heard the main door shut. 

But that morning had been different for her. As the door shut behind him, a sudden nauseous feeling started creeping up her throat.  _ What the fuck?  _ Before she could register what was happening, her body yanked forwards and she threw up. All over the floor.

After throwing up one more time, she started sweating. It had to be the curry they’d eaten for dinner the previous night.  _ It has to be _ .

She took a few minutes to hold herself together before she got up. She cleaned the floor  _ twice _ , put her pajamas on the laundry basket and took a long, hot shower. It was weird. She was feeling okay again, as if nothing had happened. As if she hadn’t poured her guts out all over their bedroom floor fifteen minutes ago. 

When she got out of the shower, she grabbed her phone and texted Octavia. Lincoln and her had been over at their apartment for dinner the previous night, and they had all basically eaten the same thing. She needed to know if Octavia was feeling sick, too. 

In the back of her mind, she secretly hoped she was.

_ ‘We are okay so far. It could be a bug. Bellamy works with kids, maybe he gave it to you.’ _

Okay. It could be a possibility. She headed for their medicine cabinet next, and took her temperature. It was normal. Everything about her body felt normal, except for having thrown up. But her stomach felt okay, too, now.

Clarke started to freak out. A certain possibility crossed her mind, but she didn’t want to believe it. She didn’t even want it to be an option. It was  _ too soon. _

But she needed to know for sure. She got dressed as quickly as she could, not that she was in any kind of rush. Bellamy wouldn’t come back home until the afternoon. But still. She grabbed her purse and headed to the nearest supermarket, which was just a couple of blocks away from their apartment. 

They had moved to a more residential area, calm, full of parks and schools and families. She gulped. Their location wasn’t certainly helping her at all at that moment.

They had chosen that specific part of town because it was cozy, safe, and different from the surroundings of campus. They were adults now, both with a full-time job, and that area seemed more fitting. But now that innocent action had taken a whole different meaning in Clarke’s head. 

“Fucking hell,” Clarke muttered to herself as the events of that morning sank in. 

She tried not to think as she walked down the medicine aisle of the supermarket. It wasn’t until her eyes laid on the pregnancy tests that her heart started racing again. 

_ Okay, Clarke, breathe _ . 

She grabbed three of them and quickly headed back to the cashier. Three had to be enough, right?

Once back in the apartment, she went straight for the kitchen and drank a whole bottle of water. The bathroom was her next stop, and she closed the door behind her despite being alone at home. She needed to feel sheltered. A nauseous feeling took over her again. 

The following five minutes were the longest of her life. She took her phone out and scrolled through Instagram, hoping it would ease her mind. But nothing could distract her from the absurd reality she was living in. 

The timer on her phone went off five minutes later, and she let out a heavy, deep breath. This was it. Whatever it would be, they’d get through it. She was sure of that. 

Her eyes scanned the three tests on the sink. 

_ Positive. Positive. Positive. _

“ _ Fuck _ ,” she put her hands over her mouth, trying to keep her whimpers silent, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Clarke didn’t know what to think. She didn’t know what to do next. 

She’d need to tell Bellamy, but  _ how _ ? How would he react? God, did he even  _ want _ kids? They hadn’t talked about that yet. 

Of course they hadn’t. They had moved in together not even one year ago - it was too soon to be talking about such things. She knew he liked kids, that much was obvious. He was a teacher, for crying out loud. And he was the first one to smile at babies at the supermarket or stick his tongue out playfully at them. But it was one thing to like kids,  _ other people’s kids _ , and it was something else to want to have some of your own. 

She cried, and sobbed, and wanted to throw up, and scream. This couldn’t be happening. Not when her life was finally making sense, when everything was finally figured out. Not when they were finally  _ happy _ . 

And now there she was, standing next to her oblivious boyfriend inside an enormous, fancy hall at Monty and Harper’s wedding, as couples around them danced to a sappy slow song.

She absentmindedly placed her hand over her flat stomach, looking at their friends dancing and having fun together, not a single worry in their minds. Murphy was dancing with Wick, which was rather a sight, and Raven and Emori stood giggling not far from them.

It suddenly hit her. She would no longer be like them. She would no longer have that life. 

She felt Bellamy’s hot breath on her ear, “Are you sure you’re okay, love?”

Clarke gulped as he kissed her neck. No, she was not, “Yeah,” she lied, “Just a little overwhelmed. It’s hot in here.”

“Come on,” Bellamy grabbed her hand, and they started heading towards the gardens outside. 

The sky was dark, and the moon was shining over them. A few people were already there, smoking. She felt nauseous just by looking at them. It had never happened to her before, Clarke realised. The mere thought of a cigarette made her want to throw up. 

As they walked around the beautiful gardens, Bellamy wrapped an arm around her shoulders, “You’ve been acting weird,” he said, voice barely a whisper. 

Her eyes were glued to the ground, voice weak, “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “You’ve been kind of off, I guess? For the past few weeks. I thought you were nervous about the wedding and all, but you’re still kinda grumpy.”

“I’m not grumpy,” she playfully bumped her body into his, hoping her jokey attitude would distract him from reality. 

“Yes, you are,” he smirked, “Grumpy Princess.”

She had to tell him. It was getting ridiculous. It had been a little over a month since she found out, and she couldn’t believe she had managed to keep it to herself for that long. 

In her defence, she wanted to truly make sure before telling him. Not that she had many doubts, though, with three positive tests. But still. She had scheduled an appointment at the hospital two weeks before the wedding, just to be clear. 

And it had been clear, alright. She was pregnant. One hundred percent. 

She knew she should’ve told him that same day. But she hadn’t, and now she wasn’t feeling any braver. It was stupid. He was literally the father of her child. He needed to know. 

_ The father of my child. Oh god _ . 

Her head started spinning, and she momentarily lost balance. Bellamy was quick to catch her, “Hey, hey,” his voice was nothing but worry, “Clarke, you’re not okay. Let’s get out of here. I’ll drive us to the hospital.”

“No, Bellamy,” she managed to let out. She had to keep her eyes closed to keep her consciousness. It was  _ not _ the right time to faint. Not when she was trying to convince him that she was alright. 

_ Who am I trying to fool? _

“Yes, Clarke,” he said, firmly, “Something’s clearly wrong. Come on, let’s go.”

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” she hurried to say, once her head went back into place. She released herself from his grip, “See? I’m fine,” she smiled, although she didn’t believe it herself. She was definitely not fine. 

Bellamy shook his head, “Princess,” his voice softened, and his hands rested on her arms, “Tell me what’s wrong,  _ please _ . I know you’re not okay, and you know it too. Just tell me, Clarke. I’m here for you, alright?”

She gave him a small nod, “I know.”

“Then tell me, love. Tell me what’s wrong.”

She hesitated, “Promise me you won’t be mad.”

His eyes widened, “I’ll never get mad at you, Princess. Never.”

This was it. Her mind started racing. She almost wished she could talk to her mom about it, and ask her the million questions that were on her mind. She’d know what to do, because mothers always know what to do. And now  _ she _ was going to be a mother herself, and she absolutely had no idea about anything.

_ I’m going to be a terrible mom _ . 

Clarke started sweating. What would her father think of her? Would he be happy to be a grandfather? Would he think it was irresponsible to have a child so soon? She could always end the pregnancy, she knew that. But deep inside, and despite all the worry in her heart, she didn’t want to. 

It may not be ideal, but that was Bellamy’s child.  _ Their _ child. And she was sure she’d want to have his children, eventually. Definitely not at such a young age, but Clarke had learned to accept whatever came her way. Life wasn’t something you could plan down to every detail. 

“Clarke,” his deep voice woke her up from her thoughts. 

She blinked. This was it. Their relationship would never be the same. Not after this. 

“Bellamy,” she started, almost shyly, her eyes glued to her feet. 

“Look at me, love,” his fingers went to her chin, lifting her head up, “What is it?”

Eyes locked, a small smile on his lips, she somehow knew it would be alright. It was always alright with him. He was her rock. And she needed him now more than ever. 

“I’m pregnant, Bel.”

Silence. 

She could only hear her heart beating on her chest, the sound pounding in her ears. 

“You’re pregnant,” it wasn’t a question.

She nodded slowly, “I took three pregnancy tests and went to check at the hospital.”

Silence again. 

His expression was unreadable, and Clarke felt like crying. 

“You’re pregnant,” he repeated, “ _ Fuck _ .”

Clarke watched him in silence as he ran his fingers through his hair. His hands then went to his face, hiding his expression, and he stayed in that position for a few seconds. She didn’t know how to feel. The world stopped around her. 

“Fuck, Clarke,” when his hands left his face, his eyes were watery. He was smiling from ear to ear, “I’m going to be a  _ father _ .”

Her shoulders relaxed, and she was unable to keep the tears from falling, “You are, Bel,” she chuckled, “You’re going to be a dad.”

“Oh my god, Clarke,” he wrapped his arms around her, lifting her up from the ground. She squealed in his arms. 

Bellamy buried his face in her neck, and she felt her skin getting wet. Her hand went to the back of his head, caressing his hair soothingly, “Bellamy, are you crying?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled between sobs. Clarke couldn’t help it, and started crying with him. 

They cried, and laughed, and hugged, and people were probably staring, but they couldn’t care less. When Bellamy pulled away, his eyes were red and puffy, “How far along are you?”

“About six weeks,” she said, then added, “No one knows.” 

He nodded, and his eyes immediately darted to her stomach. He carefully placed a large, warm hand over it, and Clarke couldn’t help but chuckle, “It’s flat, Bel.”

He grinned, “I know. But it’s not empty,” his eyes pierced into hers, “There’s a little baby Griffin-Blake growing here.”

Clarke felt a shiver up and down her whole body, “I was scared you’d think it was too soon,” she confessed. 

Bellamy was quick to shake his head, “And so what if it is?”, he said, “I’ll never stop loving you, Clarke. And I already love our child with all my soul, too. There’s never a right time. I’m happy it’s happening now.”

“Me, too,” she nodded, “I love you too, Bel,” she cupped his face with her small hands and brought their lips together, “You’re going to be the best father.”

He smiled, “Only because you are the best mother.” 

Clarke didn’t fight back. Perhaps they’d be the best parents, after all. Bellamy didn’t grow up with a father figure to look up to, and Abby was certainly not an example she wanted to follow. And yet it didn’t matter. 

Their baby was growing inside of her, something they had both created, and they would make sure they’d grow up feeling happy and loved, both by their parents and by all their aunts and uncles.

_ God _ , their child was one hell of a lucky baby already, Clarke thought. 

She was one hell of a lucky woman, too. 

As they held each other in the middle of the quiet garden, the moonlight shining on them, they saw it clearly. 

Nothing else mattered except for the three of them. 


End file.
